


The Illusion Post

by Tinytokki, tismoomi



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Collaboration, Dark Magic, Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Historical Fantasy, Inspired by Art, K-pop References, Kitsune, Magical Realism, Spirit World, Spirits, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinytokki/pseuds/Tinytokki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tismoomi/pseuds/tismoomi
Summary: In a realm of spirits and mythical creatures, word of a local postal service that guarantees the safe delivery of important and dangerous packages has been circulating. On paper, their team claims to run like a well-oiled machine, but no business is without its hardships. Juggling dozens of parsels, numerous rambunctious events, and personal tribulations, The Illusion Post somehow manages to stumble through each restless day with driving perseverance.
Comments: 106
Kudos: 182





	1. All is Good in the Sorting Room

"I assure you, ma'am, our spells will not affect your denture's musical abilities." Hongjoong resisted the urge to rub his tired eyes. “They are purely for transport protection.”

Across the counter, a wizened siren peered out from behind 82 beautifully wrapped boxes, as she had been doing for the past fifteen minutes.

“And the ribbons?” She asked nervously, “I double knotted them but they may come undone if they aren’t properly handled.”

"They will be handled like newborn infants, you have my word," he replied, trying to ignore the impatient murmurs from the other customers in line and the fact that several boxes had started humming.

"Now if you can just sign here, and here, we'll get your packages on their way before--"

A shrill scream sounded from the storage room, followed by a deafening crash that rattled the windows of the lobby and sent the customers ducking in alarm. Everyone in the lobby jumped out of their skin, some of the spirits quite literally. The boxes on the counter jumped and began an impressive rendition of a famous holiday song.

Hongjoong debated whether to keel over right there and then.

"Yeosang!" he spun around to his faithful companion, always present with his round, inquisitive eyes and large, fox-like ears. “Cover for me, will you?" The kitsune boy nodded meekly, looking slightly apprehensive, and took up Hongjoong's place behind the counter as he ran off to deal with whatever _that_ was.

He was willing to bet his life savings that _that_ was _Mingi_.

As head of the best supernatural post office in town, Hongjoong rarely saw a day of peace, but nothing topped the craze of the holiday season. Days winked by, with a colorful assortment of spirits and cryptids waiting impatiently at the entrance each morning, clutching mysterious bundles wrapped in beautiful paper and adorned with enchantments. In a world so perilous, only Hongjoong's men could ensure the safe delivery of their precious parcels.

Well, most of the time.

As he hurried down the back hall, he was greeted with strands of smoke from the direction of the packaging room, which curled and vanished into dismal wisps around him. Hearing the accompanying chaos within, Hongjoong considered that maybe he’d rather leave the event to his imagination. Another screech convinced him otherwise. They really must not have it under control. Hongjoong pushed against the slightly ajar door with a sigh. The catastrophic scene before him far surpassed any disaster he could have imagined.

Several growing tongues of fire were licking away at a bag of letters while Mingi hovered nearby, biting at his already shredded nails and peeking over Seonghwa’s shoulder. Clearly, Mingi had broken the no-fire-powers-in-the-office rule _again_.

Seonghwa, it seemed, had removed his coat and was waving it over the flames in an attempt to snuff them out. “Is it working?” Mingi squeaked as he managed to pry open an eye and lean out from behind to see the damage. The helpless bag sat on the floor with a slouch as the flames continued to tear away the material, like a child eagerly opening a present.

“I think it’s making it worse,” their eldest replied with a hint of panic in his voice that was not usually present. “Oh no, it’s definitely making it worse!” Now the edge of the coat had caught fire and Seonghwa threw it down and stomped on it furiously.

Hongjoong did a quick scan of the area for the others and found Wooyoung and San standing, slack-jawed, on the other side of the room. He then took one step forward in an attempt to help put the fire out, only to be suddenly mowed over from behind by a sprinting Yunho.

The boy was carrying a bucket of water and, until Hongjoong came along, he was running with the wind at his heels. Yet the rush ceased to be when he tripped over the older and inevitably set him off balance. Yunho could only take a couple of stumbling steps forward before he fell to the ground, bucket flying out of his hands and the contents splashing Seonghwa firmly in the face. His hair and shirt were tamed from the sudden soak, turning his frightened expression into one of distaste. It was safe to say he closely resembled a drenched cat.

Wooyoung and San ended up joining Yunho on the floor, rolling around with childish laughter and taking great big, gasping breaths as they clung to each other for support between bouts. Hongjoong let out a giggle himself too, finding Seonghwa’s face amusing, though he didn’t let it distract him from rushing to help Yunho up. He then retrieved the silver bucket and prayed that there was some remaining water as the fire raged on - there wasn’t.

“Now you’ve wasted it!” Mingi whined, stepping back from behind the dripping Seonghwa. “Make yourself useful then and get some more!” Yunho returned with a pout, brushing himself off. “No,” Seonghwa spoke for the taller, swiping his soaked hair out of his face and completely disregarding the fire he had been working so hard to put out. “Time out for you!” He announced, pointing to Mingi with an accusing finger and marching him into the corner of the room. That meant Hongjoong was left to deal with the mail fire, as the others were busy watching the two with shocked gazes.

He swiftly exited the sorting room then with an empty bucket in hand, sprinting across the hall to one of the back rooms, tossing the bucket into the sink and turning the handle of the faucet. The thing was sticky and finicky and he had to throw himself back to turn it on. “Where is Jongho when you need him?” Hongjoong huffed as water finally came squirting out, dribbling into the bucket with a hardly rhythmic resonance. “Up here!” A new voice called and not having expected an answer, Hongjoong’s heart did a somersault. He had to place a calming hand on his chest to quell the nervous beating before he glanced up to where the voice had come from.

As if on cue, Jongho was found on top of an eight foot ladder, straining to reach what appeared to be a renegade letter resting up high. Hongjoong figured it must’ve been a piece of enchanted postage, as the envelope then swooped down from its perch with invisible wings. It zipped around the room, wavering through the air with ever changing speeds - an indicator that the spell placed on it was beginning to wear off. “What’s going on in here?” His eyes darted between the slowly filling bucket and an irritated Jongho.

“I could ask you what’s going on in _there_ ,” the youngest grunted out, fingers twitching to grab the letter, which hovered just out of reach to taunt him. “Mingi set something on fire again. Why is the letter running away from you?” Hongjoong redirected the question, struggling now to turn the faucet back off as the bucket was nearly full.

“Some pesky kids came in here and released it as a prank. I intend on having a few words with them once I catch it.” The older nodded and pulled the bucket back out of the sink, having successfully stopped the water by some miracle. Any troublesome teenager would have to be insane to pull another prank after Jongho had a few words with them. They’d practically be mailing a death wish to the devil himself.

Despite the bucket now being at least twice as heavy as it was in the first place, Hongjoong managed to drag it back across the hall, leaving Jongho to his letter rangaling. Reentering the packaging room, where the fire had consumed a few more letters, Wooyoung and San were hurriedly salvaging what they could. Their arms were overflowing with loose parchment of all types and any other flammable objects in the area.

Hongjoong made one calculated test swing before dumping the water on the flames with all his strength. The three of them quickly swatted out the last sparks and rescued what was left of the charred letters. “My swords! Where did my swords go? Did you see them in the lounge?” Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, who was patting himself down in a panic. “I-I don’t know,” he started. “It’s a mess in here, did you check upstairs?”

“I think they’re at home,” Yunho butted in. Wooyoung and San nodded in unison, interrupting each other as they tried to explain.

“You left it on the dinner table last night--”

“--We saw it when we were trying to clear away the dishes--”

“--And they seemed a bit sticky so we decided to wash them with the dishes and, well--"

"-- they didn't like that--"

"--nope, not at all--"

"--might have been the soap, we got these new ones that were on sale and--"

“--I put them on the drying rack and I don’t think I remembered to return them to the table, so unless someone else touched them, they should be there.”

The conversation was halted by a whirring sound and a flying letter zooming into the room where it stalled above them.

“You left the door open!” It was Jongho, rushing in behind the renegade postage and then promptly ducking as it flew back over his head and into--

“The lobby!”

Both Hongjoong and Jongho yelled in unison, dashing back into the lobby where the letter was flying over the heads of the already disgruntled customers. Yeosang gave the pair a wide-eyed look from the front desk but Hongjoong couldn’t reply due to the immediate onslaught of questions.

“Was there a fire back there? I saw smoke--”

“It’s not my package, is it? I’ve got something valuable in that package!”

“Do we need to evacuate the building?”

“Whose letter is this? Is everything flying around back there too?"

“Mine is expensive stationery, I sure hope it’s not--”

“Is the mail flying around _and_ on fire?”

_“Just a moment!”_

Hongjoong shouted his plea before retreating back into the restricted hallways and confining himself in a storage closet where he locked the door behind him. He slid down the frame until he landed in a sitting position, willing his breathing to return to normal and closing his eyes for a moment.

There were a couple reasons he couldn’t stand festival week, and this was one of them. The unmitigated chaos. The Illusion Post team somehow survived from one disaster to the next during the holiday season, placating grumpy customers and delivering to antsy addressees. It was times like these that Hongjoong wished he ran a normal office full of normal people that made normal deliveries to other normal people. Though, The Illusion Post wasn’t like any ordinary office. It was a small, independently-run neighborhood service that utilized their supernatural abilities to make any number of dangerous deliveries to and from the mythical creatures and spirit population of the city.

Because of their wondrous reputation then, word of The Illusion Post got around and soon the nights brought empty bath-sized carts that would magically fill the next morning with new mail. It quickly became the norm and so, the eight adjusted accordingly to accommodate their constantly crammed schedule. However, when the heavy demand of the holidays rolled around, everyone was on thin ice again and the number of things that could go wrong multiplied. It wasn’t even noon and already Hongjoong needed to escape to a quiet, non-burning storage closet to collect his wits. Yeosang would have to fend for himself out there for a few minutes. As he listened to the rest of his team reassure the concerned customers that their lengthy seasonal love notes would be safely delivered, Hongjoong was reminded of the other reason he couldn’t stand festival week.

It was the first evening of the festival season, when all the chaos to stock up on gifts, trinkets, and ingredients for the holiday craze began -- that a much younger Hongjoong was running errands for his “father.” The dark and mysterious spirit wasn’t his biological father, but Hongjoong had known him and lived under his care for as long as he could remember. The spirit was quite fond of the Illusion Post, and used it day in and day out for his many unusual and dangerous deliveries. So, Hongjoong found himself once again running to the quaint and welcoming storefront with something to drop off for him.

Today seemed a bit different from the others. He had only a single letter to deliver, one the spirit had sealed tight with a deep sigh and firm instructions for him not to look at it. Of course, this only piqued Joong’s already insufferable curiosity, but the spirit had looked so grave as he’d handed it over that the boy promised not to check. And Hongjoong always kept his promises. The letter was addressed to the postage keeper himself, and the word “urgent” was distinctly displayed across the envelope, so Hongjoong kept up the spring in his step as he pushed his way through the hustle and bustle in the street to the propped door of the post office.

The waiting line wasn’t completely reprehensible this time, but little Joong tapped his foot impatiently all the same. He liked being in this atmosphere, filled with mystical cryptids and the magic of the spirit realm in a comfortable, everyday workflow. Once the previous customer’s parcels had been cleared away, he stepped up confidently to the desk as he had many times before.

“Ah, if it isn’t our favorite human!” The postage keeper greeted warmly, peering down over the front of his desk when he wasn’t met with a customer at eye-level. Hongjoong was on the smaller end of customers received at the Illusion Post. “What have you brought us today?” Little Joong waved the envelope in the air before laying it on the smooth surface of the desk and sliding it over to him. “The letter is for you this time,” the boy informed matter-of-factly. “And it’s an urgent one too.” A spark of concern flashed across the postage keeper’s face before he schooled his expression into a neutral one and picked up the letter. With a snap of his fingers, an ornate letter opener appeared at his side, which he used to easily slice through the paper before pulling out the prize.

Hongjoong watched the postage keeper’s face sober as he skimmed through the contents, and something stirred uneasily inside him. “W-What is it?” He whispered faintly when the man lowered the letter and stared at him sadly. The postage keeper opened his mouth as if to respond but, unable to find the words, opted to hand the young boy the letter instead.

Joong swallowed and took it with trembling hands before reading it himself.

_My dear friends at the Illusion Post,_

_It grieves me to be forced to ask of you so tremendous a favor, but something has come up and I must ask it of you all the same. Bringing this letter to you is a boy by the name of Hongjoong. I trust you know him well, as he has brought you many of my precious deliveries before. This time, he is the delivery._

Here, Hongjoong drew in a sharp breath, the force of those words dealing him an almost physical blow.

_He is still too young by human standards to take care of himself on his own, and so I beg of you to find a place for him in your office, see to his needs, and raise him in my stead. I will be eternally indebted to you if you do. Hongjoong is a smart child, and knows more of the spirit realm than any other human boy his age, so I can promise he will be an asset should you choose to accept him. Put him to bed by midnight, and buy him strawberry yogurt every once in awhile. It’s his favorite._

_To Hongjoong: I know you must have many questions, as you always do, and I’m sorry I will not be able to answer them for you. A package is waiting at the Illusion, for you when you’re ready for it. Be good for the kind spirits at the post office, and don’t miss me too much. Never stop smiling._

The letter ended there. Joong tried to calm his labored breathing and turned it to check the other side but it was empty. The words just ran out. Blinking back tears, he tilted his head up to see the postage keeper shaking his head at him pityingly. But Hongjoong wasn’t ready to accept it.

He turned on his heel and tore out of the lobby, jostling the customers behind him and leaving the crumpled paper to lie lifeless on the floor. Reflexively, the postage keeper hollered for his familiar to take the desk while he hurried after the boy sprinting back down the streets toward his home -- or at least what _was_ his home.

Hongjoong was a whirlwind checking every room twice, searching every nook and cranny and haunt that his father had occupied. _He can’t be gone. He can’t be._ Other spirits may up and evaporate, transporting somewhere else at a moment’s notice, but not his father. His father had to stay and take care of him. The postage keeper came huffing in behind him as he exited the front door and scanned the surrounding street. “He’s disappeared, I’m afraid,” the man said redundantly. Hongjoong ignored him and took another step towards the street.

_Maybe he went back to work, or maybe he’s with a friend...Maybe he changed his mind and he’s at the post office to take me back! Maybe…_

Hongjoong’s head was spinning, and the postage keeper had to pull him back from the edge of the sidewalk as his knees buckled. He was shushing the boy with sweet nothings and false assurances, but Joong wasn’t listening. Finally, he let the tears fall and strings of twinkling holiday lights blurred in his vision. There was no “maybe.” The spirit had vanished, and a new chapter had begun.

“Joong?”

Hongjoong shook himself out of his reverie. He hadn’t intended on nodding off, but sure enough he was slumped against the door and a sore spot bloomed where his neck had been bent. There weren’t any windows in the storage closet to indicate what time of day it was (and more importantly, how long he had been sleeping) but his throat was dry and his eyes were misty, which probably meant too long.

A whisper at the door surprised him again.

“Joong, Mingi wants to know if he can come out of time out yet.” Hongjoong opened the door for an impatient San, rubbing his eyes at the glaring intrusion of light, and mumbled something like, “I don’t know, ask Seonghwa.” San rolled his eyes and scurried off, leaving Hongjoong to get his bearings and make his way back to the lobby.

Yeosang looked up from the paperwork he was filing and gave Hongjoong a teasing eyebrow raise at his appearance.

“How long was I out?” Joong sighed, trudging over to his chair which the kitsune gladly relinquished.

“You just missed the morning rush. A convenient time for an impromptu nap.” He dodged Hongjoong’s half hearted fist swing and went to pull out the book.

The mail tracking book was a hefty tome, brought forth daily before the delivery of the packages to ensure that each one reached its proper recipient. Like many things in the Illusion Post, its magical abilities aided the delivery team in their risky business.

“Where are Wooyoung and San?” Hongjoong peered around the sparsely populated lobby for the other half of the office workers while he dipped his quill in the inkwell. “Damage control with the delivery team in the packaging room,” Yeosang replied without even looking up from his filing. Damaged goods were a pain to deal with legally, and the team needed to ensure no important correspondence had been involved in the mixup. Hongjoong glanced at the wall clock and confirmed that it was, in fact, past noon. “They should be gathering any mail that isn’t burned by now and preparing them for transport,” he remarked. Yeosang gave a cursory nod and closed the cabinet, striding back to the packaging room to get things underway.

By the time the sun went down on the mitigated disaster site that was the Illusion Post, all but one package had found its home. Lights were flickering off from street to street as night fell, embracing the cityscape in moonlight. Yunho stole through the darkness, shifting from shadow to shadow towards the building where his destination lay. All he carried was a single letter, addressed to a young ghost girl living in a creaky attic.

Soon, he was on his way back with an empty bag and a tasty bonus in his pocket. It was a warm roll of freshly baked bread, pressed into his hand in exchange for the letter he had delivered. Such extra compensation wasn’t the reason Yunho stayed in the business, but it always made it worth it.

Holidays or no holidays, the Illusion Post team were indeed professionals, and every successful delivery was another star on their invisible badges. Maybe they weren’t rich and maybe they weren’t City Central Post Office famous, but the satisfied smiles of their clients and a good strong dark roast in the mornings kept them running.

Yunho rounded the street corner at three hours past closing time. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the Illusion Post. And immediately, he heaved a sigh. The lights were still on. The tall delivery boy let himself in, scolding admonishment already on his lips. “Hongjoong, you know I have a key. You should’ve gone to bed, I can lock up myself.” He shuffled around with the aforementioned key, locking the door with it and closing the blinds on the window.

Hongjoong didn’t answer.

Yunho frowned, jacket already half off, and turned to look at him. Usually Hongjoong had an excuse at the ready, something or other about projects that needed to be finished and safety issues that needed to be addressed. But tonight he sat at the desk, silently staring at a package in front of him.

It was old but tightly bound, plain ribbons frayed at the edges. Yunho recognized it, and he knew it was tightly bound magically as well.

“Your father’s package.”

Finally, Hongjoong looked up and shrugged.

“You’d think after all this time, I’m finally ready for it. But I suppose not.”

Yunho nodded and pulled up a chair. He had seen the spirit’s letter one night after a couple too many bottles of soju, and they’d been through this whole routine several times. It had been awhile, though.

“We’ll figure out how to open it eventually. Perhaps the spell will wear off.”

Hongjoong raised his head to look at him, levelling Yunho with a sceptical gaze. “It’s been years. There has to be a different way to get it open.”

“And one day we’ll find it,” Yunho chuckled and stood, swinging his jacket back over his shoulder and giving his friend a slap on the back. “But for now; sleep.”

Hongjoong nodded and returned the package to its home in a secret desk compartment before following Yunho upstairs and flicking off the lightswitch. “Successful delivery?” Hongjoong cleared his throat and changed the subject.

Yunho’s eyes twinkled at him and he drew the steaming little roll out of his pocket in response. Hongjoong gasped excitedly. “Well done, Yunho! Get some rest now, you deserve it.”

The two parted in the hallway, each to their own room where their roommates waited.

Yunho finished his bread roll and sat by the window. San was asleep in the top bunk, snoring softly and clutching his favourite plushie to his chest.

The moon had arisen over the sleeping city, painting the cobblestone in milky light and making Yunho tired. When his eyelids drooped and he had brushed the crumbs off his lap, he climbed into his own bed.

The chaos would continue tomorrow, but until then his belly and his heart were full and happy. He slept well.


	2. The War of the Toothbrushes

Yeosang unlocked the front doors of Illusion Post and pulled them wide open, breathing in the crisp morning air. 

It was a truly beautiful morning in Yeosang's opinion. The sun peeked out from behind fluffy white clouds that promised snow in the evening, the air was frosty but fresh, and somewhere in the depths of the post office, the War of the Toothbrushes was raging at full force. Wooyoung’s voice screeched above the familiar morning sounds.

“Mingi, that’s my toothbrush, what are you doing?”

“Yours? I thought yours was green.”

“No, I just replaced it. Don’t put it in your mouth, now I’ll have to get another one!”

“Ew, Yunho, you got toothpaste everywhere!” Jongho’s laugh interrupted the argument. 

“It’s not my fault!” Yunho fought back. “I couldn’t get any more out of the old tube.” 

“Just ask Seonghwa to squeeze it, he can always get more out,” Jongho responded as if it was obvious. “You didn’t have to open a new one-” 

“Would you four keep the commotion to a minimum? Some of us are trying to work.”

Yeosang called, having pulled away from the front door to continue his morning tasks in the messy post office.

“Like opening the front door is any work.” Wooyoung mumbled in quiet annoyance, scrubbing the bristles of his new - and almost Mingi-contaminated - toothbrush on a hand towel.

“Then don’t expect a cup of coffee.” The kitsune strolled past the open bathroom door at the perfect time, causing the other three to chuckle at Wooyoung. He huffed in defeat, giving his dry toothbrush to Yunho to paste before finally brushing his teeth. 

Once the quartet were finished freshening up shoulder to shoulder, the staircase quickly became a hazard to any unsuspecting coworkers. Their childish antics carried over into a race upstairs, each careful not to slip on account of their socks. Upon reaching the hall of dorms, they quickly disappeared into their respective rooms. Then, the competition continued as neatly folded shirts and pants were carelessly plucked from organized drawers to be worn. The post office’s morning rituals were in full swing, with the generally late risers scrambling to ready themselves for the long day ahead as the early birds received their worms.

As the newly clothed men clambered back downstairs, Yeosang was making rounds with the first freshly brewed batch of coffee. The smell wafted enticingly through the air, making Wooyoung wish he hadn’t bothered his roommate. Inside the sorting room, San was already hard at work behind his desk, sealing spells on individually unique parcels and organizing them accordingly.

“You started without me!” Wooyoung whined, sitting down next to him and checking over the spells he already cast. “You know the seals are stronger when we both cast them.”

San chuckled at his pouting face and gave his newly combed hair a pat before passing over the next parcel. “Don’t take ages in the bathroom next time then.” He held out an empty mug for Yeosang to fill as he passed by with the coffee pot. “Aren’t you getting any?” 

Wooyoung wrinkled his nose at him. “Who drinks coffee after they’ve brushed their teeth anyway? Probably tastes gross.” He dropped the parcel he was handling into its designated bag to punctuate his statement.

“Drink up,” San instructed, holding his cup next to Wooyoung’s face. “You’ll be grouchy like this all day until you do.”

“Anyone seen Hongjoong?” Yeosang asked when he returned the coffee pot to the break room. 

“He and Seonghwa haven’t emerged,” Jongho muttered from the table, where he was hurriedly spreading some jam on a slice of bread. “Guess he needed a few extra minutes of beauty sleep.”

“Oh, he was up late again last night,” Yunho supplied from around a large bite of toast. “Let him have his rest.”

“We’re opening in a few minutes, aren’t we?” Mingi piped up.

“Calm down everyone, we’re here,” Seonghwa’s voice called from the hallway and he appeared, swords firmly strapped down this time to avoid losing them again. Instinctively, he went to wipe some butter off of the corner of Yunho’s mouth.

Hongjoong trailed in behind, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and reaching for the last dregs of coffee. With everyone present and accounted for, Yeosang could finally breathe a sigh of relief and station himself near the front desk with Hongjoong. Being an early riser was stressful sometimes.

As he was finishing up his morning routine, Wooyoung and San came up from the sorting room with a package in hand.

“Hongjoong, we have a problem.”

“Already? We haven’t even opened yet,” the postage keeper huffed as he sat in his chair and took the proffered package in hand. “What’s the issue?”

“Well, uh…” Wooyoung scratched the back of his neck and gave San a nudge.

“No, you explain,” San whispered back before clearing his throat. Hongjoong and Yeosang were both staring at them. “Well, you see, we tried to put our protection spells on, as usual, and the package--”

“--The package repelled them!” Wooyoung broke in and then quieted at a glare from San. 

“I thought you wanted me to explain,” San complained through gritted teeth before turning back to Hongjoong and continuing, “It’s cursed with some spell that’s stronger than our combined spells. Which means it could be bad news.”

Hongjoong eyed the package in his hands and placed it on the desk for Yeosang to inspect as well. 

“Unfamiliar spells?” 

All four looked up at Jongho as he entered. “That means it’s dangerous then.” Wooyoung nodded and stepped aside to let Jongho take a look. “I should be the one to take it,” Jongho concluded after a moment. “If something goes wrong, I can handle it. I’m strong enough.”

“No!” Hongjoong suddenly broke in, before blushing and lowering his voice. “No, actually, I think… I think Seonghwa should take it. He’s seen this kind of spell before.”

With a shrug, Jongho returned the package to the desk and left the room to fetch his delivery bag.

“Why did you say that?” Yeosang whispered once Hongjoong had swivelled his chair around. “You know Seonghwa has never seen a spell like that.”

“I just got a bad feeling,” Hongjoong sighed. “And I don’t want Jongho to be the one to take it.”

Yeosang frowned at this. For the one member without an intrinsic spirit world connection or magical powers to be strongly affected by a cursed object… it was something that put all the others on edge too. Better not to question it.

The rest of the delivery boys were still inhaling as much food as possible before they set out for the day. While Seonghwa calmly packed some lunches for the road, Mingi procured a slice of bread and summoned Yunho with it.

“Look what I can do! No toaster needed!”

He concentrated his gaze on the bread for a moment before it suddenly burst into flames. Both Yunho and Mingi panicked and rushed to blow the fire out, leaving only a sad charred square of black bread.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed, and then glanced over at Seonghwa who didn’t even look up from his lunchbox. “No fire powers in the office,” he monotoned, precise and methodical in his movements.

Mingi blushed profusely and tossed out the bread remains. “I think we need to work on your powers,” Yunho sighed and patted him on the back before downing the rest of his orange juice and retrieving his delivery bag. 

As he exited, Hongjoong entered with a package in hand and made a beeline for Seonghwa, who finally looked up from his now finished lunch arrangements. “What is it?”

He could sense the air of concern radiating off Hongjoong and carefully took the package as it was handed. Mingi’s interest was piqued and he joined them.

“I’m adding this package to your load because it’s quite possibly dangerous and I don’t want Jongho handling it.” Both Seonghwa and Mingi looked up at Hongjoong in surprise. 

“You’re sure?” Mingi asked timidly. “If it’s dangerous, isn’t Jongho the best person to be handling it? He has the strongest powers.”

Hongjoong sighed and rubbed his temples for a moment before attempting to articulate an answer. There was really no way to explain it. “It rejected San and Wooyoung’s spells. That fact is making me anxious and I just… I just don’t want to risk it.”

Seonghwa nodded along. He understood the hesitation. Magic was like chemistry; certain strong combinations were simply hazardous. “You have very sharp instincts for a human,” he noted as he inspected the package himself. There wasn’t any outward sign to show that a dark spell lurked inside.

“Well, if it’s so dangerous, why do we have to deliver it at all?” Mingi whined, eyeing the package from a safe distance. It was making his powers antsy too. “There’s a return address, isn’t there? Just send it back.”

“Mingi, you know the rules,” Hongjoong scowled at him before softening and patting him on the shoulder. The Illusion Post prided itself on making every delivery it possibly could, despite the circumstances that might entail. It would take more than a bad feeling and a headstrong package to deter the Illusion’s delivery boys. “It’ll be fine. Just stick together, the two of you. Yunho and Jongho can cover the other side of the city.” Conclusion drawn, Hongjoong retreated to the front desk to answer phone calls.

With the stroke of the hour hand, the delivery boys were off. Each had a heavy satchel filled with holiday postage and as planned, Seonghwa and Mingi went one way whilst Yunho and Jongho went the other.

Seonghwa reached over and pulled Mingi’s scarf tighter around him before adjusting his own hat to cover the tips of his ears, suppressing a shiver. “Let’s take care of all the other deliveries first,” he suggested. “Then we’ll deal with our problem package.” All afternoon, the pair bounced around their side of town, keeping to a well-known route and mentally crossing off buildings as they went. They threw letters in mailboxes, slid them through the flaps of front doors and even placed small parcels on steps with seasoned ease. 

Slowly but surely, their delivery bags were emptied with the sun’s gradual movement. Now in the late afternoon, it hid behind a heavy blanket of gray clouds -- the snowfall Yeosang predicted in the morning was beginning to arrive. Yet, the darkening sky didn’t stop Seonghwa and Mingi’s hustle. If anything, it reminded them of their tightening schedule and gave them a motivational burst in the home stretch. There was barely any calm with a literal storm on the horizon. 

Especially since the strange package Hongjoong had assigned was the only delivery keeping them from jogging back to the warmth of the Illusion. The box was addressed to an older part of town, where the clean and characteristic buildings began to crumble into a hodgepodge of archetypes. Navigating this particular part of town wasn’t the easiest task either, as building growth became misshapen over the years and some addresses were hidden behind each other. 

“Any luck?” Seonghwa called, holding the dangerous package in his arms and looking to Mingi, who was scanning over the increasing addresses ahead. He twirled back around, shaking his red head before continuing skipping further along the street. Then, he suddenly stopped and disappeared between two buildings. 

Mingi peeked out from one wall and waved to his companion. “Seonghwa! I think it’s over here!” 

Seonghwa arrived to see Mingi standing above a short staircase which sunk down into a tight alleyway that branched off in either direction. 

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa mumbled skeptically, raising a brow at the claustrophobic lane below. It looked to be in even worse condition than the main street, the pavement severely cracked and weathered beyond repair. 

“Well, the addresses around here are pretty close to the package's destination. So, we should check every nook and cranny for good measure.” Mingi replied, motioning to rundown scenery around the pair. Seonghwa took a few steps back, scanning over the building numbers to ensure Mingi hadn’t accidentally missed it. And he didn’t, none of the addresses on the main street matched the package’s label.

Seonghwa sighed, moving back to Mingi and looking down the staircase uneasily. 

“Stay alert. I have a bad feeling about this.” 

With a nod of acknowledgement from Mingi, Seonghwa trotted down the few stairs and his companion followed close behind. Mingi landed with the tips of his shoes touching Seonghwa’s polished heels. That’s how tight the alleyway was. 

“Left or right?” Mingi questioned, peering down the thin alleyway of short but bountiful laundry lines. Clouded windows were dotted high and low, one visibly opened to the left spilling white curls of an unknown smoke. 

“Right.” Seonghwa decided at the sight, peeling away from Mingi and leading the way once more. He knew exactly what that cloud was and by opting to go the other way, hoped to avoid it. Though, after walking down the tight alleyway another plume appeared and they had no choice but to brace it. The smoke wasn’t dangerous, simply the result of potion concoctions being brewed, but Seonghwa hated its pungent smell. Once it got on clothing, it would easily take a few washes to rid the strong and almost suffocating scent from any fabric.

Soon, Mingi and Seonghwa sighted the end of the tight alleyway. After a doorless corridor of smoke and filth, an entrance finally appeared. And sure enough, the package’s address was engraved on a plaque in the center of a rounded red door. It was tucked under a thick fabric awning, sloped shape supported by thin but sturdy wiring. 

“Good call.” Mingi hummed, looking over at the package Seonghwa was still clutching protectively. He was intensely scanning the scene, taking note of every little detail for some offsetting sign to coincide with the mysterious package. The uneasiness in his chest hadn’t dissipated.

Rather, it heightened the feeling when Seonghwa caught a glimpse of red glowing near the awning’s fabric ceiling. 

"Mingi, look here. Can you light up that part over there?" Mingi clicked his fingers and despite the morning toast mishap, sent a small flame floating up towards the ceiling. It lit up a frenzied mess of runes and symbols on the fabric. Hwa felt the blood drain from his face.

___

“Hongjoong, sorry to bother you again…”

Hongjoong looked up from his desk to see an apologetic San offering him a letter. He gave him a tired look and took a swig of coffee before taking it. He wasn’t even sure why he was drinking coffee this late in the afternoon. It was entirely too bitter for him.

“What’s the problem this time?” He asked, turning it over in his hands. “Urgent” was scrawled across the top in red letters. It made Hongjoong’s stomach turn as he was reminded of the letter he had shoved in a drawer somewhere in an attempt to erase it from his memory. 

_My dear friends at the Illusion Post,_ _it grieves me to be forced to ask-_

“Not more unfamiliar spells, I hope?” He smiled and banished the memory before it surfaced.

“No, there’s nothing repelling us,” Wooyoung laughed nervously, appearing at San’s side. “It’s just… the address…” He trailed off and looked at San in uncertainty, the two of them falling quiet.

Hongjoong looked at it again. There was no recipient name, but the address line contained a number and jurisdiction he was not familiar with. “Yeosang?”

The kitsune perked up from where he was restocking stamps and came over to take a look at the thing. “I don’t recognize it either,” he hummed pensively before moving behind the desk and retrieving the magic book. 

Inside was a record of previous deliveries and their locations and both Yeosang and Hongjoong scanned it twice before admitting that none of them had seen this place before. 

“Is it some type of temporary realm?” Hongjoong queried as Yeosang went to procure some maps. San shrugged and pulled up a chair. It seemed they would be investigating this for awhile. “Shouldn’t we have gotten an announcement about it?”

“I just don’t get how we’ve _never_ delivered to this location before,” Wooyoung sighed as he flopped down next to San. “It seems highly unlikely. Even the deliveries made by the founders of the Illusion Post are recorded there, aren’t they?”

“Unless the book erases all records of deliveries to temporary realms,” San argued. “Has it done that before?” He directed his question at Hongjoong, who raised his hands in mock surrender.  
“I don’t know, it’s not really my book.” This was half true. The book had been left to him as Postmaster, but he had no magic connection to it. Certainly not enough to be able to know when something was magically erased.

Yeosang returned with a map of the city and splayed it on the desk. All four of them leaned in to inspect it. It was Wooyoung who found the district, located at the city limits and nearly covered by the other neighbourhoods crowding it. 

“It’s so far,” San groaned as his eyes bulged at it. Patiently, Yeosang calculated the exact distance before sighing through his nose and sitting back. “A day’s journey on foot.”

“A day’s… But, _Yeosang_ , this is supposed to be a 24 hour delivery!” Wooyoung grabbed the letter again and waved it to emphasize. “How are we going to get it there in time?”

“Do you know who dropped it off and when?” Hongjoong asked, placating hands reaching and taking the letter back before Wooyoung damaged it in his gesticulation.

Again San blushed cherry red and sank lower into his chair. “No, it was while you two were on break and Byeol was watching the desk.”

“Your familiar?” Hongjoong leaned forward questioningly. “I thought I left _you_ to watch it.” His eyes twinkled as San squirmed in embarrassment and evaded the question.

“Anyway, the point is, none of us know who dropped it off and when exactly, so best case scenario, we have approximately 20 hours to get this letter to the addressee.” 

“Well, can we take the train?” Wooyoung asked, exasperated as he scanned the map for any public transportation lines. 

“Woah, woah, hang on,” Hongjoong sobered and covered Wooyoung’s view of the map for a moment. “Who said _we’re_ going anywhere? This is a delivery, we need the delivery team to take care of it. Not to mention the snowstorm blowing in currently.” 

Hongjoong’s job wasn’t just to sit at the desk, take phone calls, and be nice to people. He was the Postmaster, and that meant he was the one who was supposed to keep everyone safe. 

Suddenly, the jangle of the bell above the door sounded, startling all four of the office workers. For a moment, Hongjoong presumed it was more customers. Even in the evenings, the holiday season brought a constant flow of business. But the two entering were Yunho and Jongho, bags empty and work for the day done. 

Hongjoong looked past them, expecting to see Mingi and Seonghwa coming in behind, even as San dragged Yunho over to take a look at the letter and the map. “Where are the others?” Yeosang asked quietly, voicing Hongjoong’s thoughts without even realising it. 

“Ah…” Jongho cleared his throat and avoided all the eyes on him. “We came back without waiting for them.” 

_“Jongho!”_ Hongjoong exclaimed, rising to his feet. “It’s a blizzard out there and you’re telling me they’re outside _alone?_ ”

Jongho’s eyes finally met his. “We thought they already returned…” 

Hongjoong sunk into his chair and dropped his head into his hands. This was just _perfect_.

An unmarked letter that needed to be delivered to an unknown part of town immediately, and two missing delivery boys probably stuck in the snow with a mysterious package.

Now what?

___

“Get back!” Seonghwa grabbed Mingi’s wrist and yanked him out from under the awning right as the runes flared up with a crackling like electricity. Mingi gave a yelp, which Seonghwa attributed to alarm at the situation, till it turned into a low whimper.

Seonghwa spun back around to see the delivery boy cradling his left hand, lines of reddened runes painting it. The spell had transferred itself from the ceiling to Mingi.

Without hesitation, Seonghwa took Mingi’s printed hand with his two — he had dropped the package in the process of pulling Mingi — and began reading over the blemished symbols. 

“What does it say, Hwa?” Mingi asked, breaking the short silence and gently relinquishing his hand from a clearly concerned Seonghwa to further inspect it himself.

“Nothing good. It’s a binding spell, a powerful one too. But that’s all I can gather,” he blankly stated, still dumbstruck that he had just let that happen. Mingi had received a binding spell, similar to the kind Wooyoung and San sealed packages with for protection. 

“What do you think will happen?” The taller boy mumbled, moving one finger at a time, fearful for his current well-being. 

“I don’t know, but we should get back.” Seonghwa replied dazedly, moving away from the trap door with regrets piling in his heart. He picked up the dangerous package from the ground, forcefully tucking it under his arm. 

“What about finishing the delivery?” Mingi called, trailing after a swiftly moving Seonghwa fueled by worry and self-inflicted hatred.   
“We’ll have to deal with it later. We have to get you home _now_.” 

In the gray evening light, the pair of delivery boys stole through the cracked buildings until they became whole structures again under the growing moonlight. Snow began to fall halfway back to the Illusion Post, the glittering white distracting Mingi’s mind from the binding spell placed over his hand. Though Seonghwa didn’t let a little weather waver his one-track mind.

Possibilities raced through his thoughts of the repercussions of such a spell. A spell-repellent package being delivered to a rune infested den- something suspicious was going on and the Illusion Post was caught up in the middle of it now. The priority was Mingi, and getting him back so Wooyoung and San could inspect the damage.

The snow began to pick up, a biting wind hissing through alleyways and around street corners, and Seonghwa had to squint to see where they were going. Mingi whined from behind him, clinging onto him with his good hand and cradling the cursed one.

The flurries that swirled around them were blinding, and soon the icy wind that bore down on them was pushing them too hard to make any forward progress without getting lost.

Mingi’s head emerged briefly from behind Hwa with an unspoken question. _Why aren’t we moving?_

“The wind is blowing too hard, we can’t get anywhere like this. I think we’ll need to wait it out.” Seonghwa shivered as he spoke and, hearing no objections, guided Mingi to the nearest alleyway.

The snow still descended on them, but at least the wind wasn’t as harsh. Mingi pulled his hand back out of his jacket to take another look at it. “Does it still hurt?” Seonghwa asked gently, depositing the package in a snow dune for a moment. Mingi sighed and turned his arm as the two of them gazed at it. “It’s numb now, like the rest of me,” he conceded.

Seonghwa simply frowned at him. He wasn’t sure if that was an improvement or not. He forced himself to stop worrying about it and focus on their current situation as time slipped by. Surely someone would come and find them? Yunho and Jongho must have realised they were missing in action by now. He hung onto that hope as the night deepened and the snowfall did not waver.

Mingi’s incessant shivering softened his heart and he drew the younger boy in to share his warmth, whatever he had to give. It wasn’t much, but it was all they could do as they sat in the snow and waited for their rescuers.

___

“Quiet!” Hongjoong had to stand on his chair and yell to get the other five to calm down. The moment they had realized their situation, chaos had broken out with ideas flying and being rebutted in a clamorous frenzy, and Hongjoong couldn’t think straight when there was only a shred of his sanity left to think with.

After a moment, the room quieted and five heads turned to where Hongjoong stood, mouths snapping shut at the sight of his face. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, Byeol sauntered in, completely unaware of the issue and San ran to scoop up his cat, telling her not to interrupt. Hongjoong let San chide his familiar and went on speaking, “Someone needs to go find Hwa and Mingi, they could be injured or stuck somewhere if they haven’t returned by now…”

“I’ll do it,” Jongho volunteered immediately. “Me too,” Yunho chimed in. “The two of us know the routes best. We’ll find them.”

Hongjoong nodded and went to sit back down. That much he had expected. “But what about this letter?” Yeosang questioned softly. “We’re in trouble if it arrives late and the addressee has complaints.” Hongjoong pressed his lips together.

It seemed foolish to send more people out into the snow when two delivery boys were already missing in action, but Yeosang was right. The reputation of the Illusion Post was on the line, and with it, their livelihoods. 

“San and I can take it,” Wooyoung piped up, nowhere near as loud as he had been before, but resolute in his decision. San met his eyes and nodded once. “We’ll try the train, and if that doesn’t work we’ll find another way. You can trust us.” Hongjoong sighed and scanned the room, as if looking for another option. San and Wooyoung were office workers, not delivery boys. But they were the only option, and they didn’t have much of a choice. 

“Alright,” he finally conceded. “I’ll allow it. But be careful, do you hear? Your safety comes first.”

Wooyoung gave a sober nod to show he understood and ran to fetch coats. San perched Byeol up on the counter and held her face in his hands. “I’ll be back soon, my star,” he promised, receiving a purr in response. “Don’t worry about me.”

Soon the four of them were bundled up and ready for their respective tasks. Yeosang and Hongjoong stood by the door and watched them go.

If things went according to plan, there would be eight pairs of boots kicked off in the entryway, and eight bowls of stew grasped in thawing hands by the fire. Eight beds would be occupied that night, and the snow would blow past harmlessly.

Hongjoong watched the four disappear in the swirling white and shivered. Things had better go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait getting this out! Hopefully future updates are more frequent :) Hope you enjoyed and as always feel free to comment and/or hit us up on twitter (@tiny_tokki and @noriimorii) and instagram for @cottinstars :D


	3. Holiday Craze

Wooyoung and San pushed out through the front door with Yunho and Jongho just at their heels. They split off without a goodbye, knowing there was no time to waste. The night would only grow colder and the last train would leave without hesitation if they waited any longer.

Familiar streets were covered in a hefty layer of glittering snow, some of it even plastering against building fronts. The wind continued to whip bitterly, causing Wooyoung to pull the front of his scarf over his rosy nose before adjusting San’s in a similar fashion. They stumbled through snow drifts, arm in arm, observing the winter haze that graced the city in pursuit of the train station. It was the city's most reliable form of public transport, running in even the most uninhabitable weather conditions and ensuring even the farthest reaches of the limits were accommodated by its convenient service.

The pair had only ridden the train once or twice due to their work being confined to the Illusion Post’s sorting room. But, they heard it every night around this time. Its pristine whistle would cut through the air like a butterknife and announce to the entire city its late departure. 

“Hey Woo, did we take two lefts?” San muffled through his scarf, gently shaking his arm that intertwined with Wooyoung’s. His companion nodded, looking across the road before starting to pull San to the right. “We have to go this way now.” They crossed the quiet street, careful not to slip on any unexpected ice that might’ve built up. After a few more confirmation seeking questions were asked, a large stone building with a golden crown of windows appeared upon the next turn. A thin cloud of dark smoke barely wisped over the roof, making the boys gasp in unison. The train was still there. 

“We’re almost there!” Wooyoung cried in relief, a numb smile appearing under his scarf. San tugged him down the block, sharing Wooyoung’s excitement as they rushed to the entrance. They slipped inside and shared a breath of relief as warmth began to thaw the snow that dusted their coats. The station was empty and quiet, save for the distant ticking of a clock. A few rows of wooden benches lined the tiled floor, offering waiting passengers some place to rest before the next train arrived. Behind them, a handful of ticket booths were embedded into the back wall. They were all vacant, the row of usually illuminated signs were turned off except for one on the very end.

San jogged towards the only occupied counter, met with a hairy figure dressed in a sweater vest on the other side of the glass. Its eyes were covered with a shaggy bang of hair, posture remaining unphased as the boy approached. With a polite grin, San procured a bundle of bills and loose coins amounting to two train tickets. “Good evening, sir,” he began, slipping the money under the slit of the separating glass. “Two tickets please.” 

Wooyoung appeared behind San to watch as the sweatered cashier collected the money with a gnarly paw, blowing its bangs upward with a deep and calculated puff. For a moment, the boys caught sight of two brilliant yellow eyes that flitted over the payment as the bills were expertly flicked through.

“Where are you heading to?” The cashier questioned with a growl, depositing the money in a fancy register with a satisfying ring before hovering its paw over a small shelf of organized tickets. 

“Oh, um…” San mumbled, realizing he didn’t know the name of the district they were travelling to. He looked at Wooyoung for help, who stared blankly back. Wooyoung had pointed out the letter’s location at the post office earlier, but couldn’t seem to remember the district name either.

“Here. I’m sure this will be helpful to you.” The cashier grumbled, shifting its paw behind the ticket shelf and grabbing something San and Wooyoung couldn’t see. It turned around and slipped a brochure through the glass slit, the leaflet proclaiming itself to be a route of train stops.

San thanked the cashier for the convenient map, swiftly opening it on the small counter and making room for Wooyoung to stand beside him. They hastily glanced over the paper, hoping the train wouldn’t suddenly blow its whistle to announce its departure. It could happen any minute now.

“There’s the district.” Wooyoung pointed to an area towards the city limits, San immediately locating the closest station to the neighborhood. He looked back up at the cashier, finally answering with confidence, “We’re going to the fourteenth station.”

The cashier nodded, its paw moving once more to the shelf. It let out another puff, pushing up its hair to ensure the right tickets were being grabbed. 

“Thank you.” San smiled, taking the tickets and scurrying behind the booth with Wooyoung trailing him. They pushed out through another pair of doors, emerging onto the main platform where an ancient train was patiently awaiting permission to depart. Its face and beautifully painted passenger cars glistened with tiny patches of snow, gathered from the previous stops and beginning to melt under the harsh light. 

San looked up and down the ghostly platform, noticing a smartly dressed worker moving down the carts and securing the doors. San jogged down to meet the worker, Wooyoung continuing to follow.

It wasn’t long until the bespectacled man took note of the sudden commotion, stopping his door closing motion midway to look at San and Wooyoung. “May I help you gentlemen?” The worker called, adjusting his spindly glasses on his freckled face as the pair approached him.

“We’re here to board the train. Are we too late?” San explained, looking at the half open compartment door the male was in the midst of sealing. The worker pulled out a pocket watch from his uniform before shaking his head and properly reopening the door. “You’re right on time.”

“Thank goodness.” San breathed, quickly pressing the tickets into the male’s now outstretched hand. He took Wooyoung’s arm again, stepping onto the train car and prompting Wooyoung to call, “Have a good night!” The worker smiled after them and finished the closing door, prohibiting any more passengers from entering. 

In the safety of the train, Wooyoung and San found themselves in a drowsy compartment filled with travellers of all kinds. Cushioned benches lined each windowed wall of the cart, the mounted lamps dimly lit to accommodate the overall cozy and quiet atmosphere. Silently, the two men shuffled to an empty bench at the back of the compartment and collapsed into their seats upon impact. They each let out a deep sigh, Wooyoung reopening the train brochure they received at the ticket booth. San nestled his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder to look over the paper, mumbling, “Why’d you keep that?”

“It’ll come in handy when finding the letter’s recipient.” Wooyoung explained simply, suddenly letting his expression fall flat. His blood ran cold and he turned to San with an intense stare. “Did you bring the letter with you?”

San nodded slowly, unbuttoning his coat to reveal an inside pocket. He reached into the hidden pouch, removing the edge of the aforementioned urgent letter. Wooyoung let out another sigh, looking back down at the map with a softened gaze. In the minutes that followed, the train blew its familiar whistle and peeled away from the station with San asleep on Wooyoung’s shoulder.

___

Mingi could tell from the blue tips of Seonghwa’s fingers that the older boy was frost-nipped from holding him for too long. They had to get inside soon or they were risking tissue damage.

“Let me help!” He finally said, loud enough that he hoped he could be heard before the icy winds swept his voice away. Seonghwa shifted from where he had Mingi enclosed in his arms and moved aside to look at him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Just let me try!” Mingi practically whined, trying to keep his shivers small lest Hwa feel guilty about removing his body heat. Hearing no more objections, he stretched out his hand and concentrated.

All he needed was a spark that he could grow into a flame, a small candle of warmth for the two to crowd around while they waited for their rescuers. Even as he held his breath, Mingi could feel the rune crackling back to life and a stinging sensation return to his cold limb. He couldn’t suppress the whine of pain that slipped out and immediately Seonghwa’s hands were on his again. “Don’t,” he cautioned. “The rune is interfering.”

Mingi knew he was right. He could feel the suppression of all his power building up inside him. A tiny bolt of electricity sputtered out, flying off haywire into the alleyway. Mingi cowered away from the sudden burst, and frustrated tears began to leak. “We should get inside at least,” he insisted, shaking his head in disappointment. “We’ve lingered here too long. Both of us will freeze to death before they find us.”  
“Mingi, if we move from this position, that decreases our chances at being found by half, at least,” Seonghwa argued back. That was the logical reason, but Mingi knew in the back of his mind, Seonghwa was afraid there wasn’t anywhere still open that would let them in- especially not with a wild rune curse acting up. 

“Then let’s help them find us faster,” he suggested with a deep breath, an air of determination charging the air between them. Mingi ignored Seonghwa’s panicked look and raised his arm into the air, aiming for the small square of sky they could see in their alleyway, and released.

Again, pops of electricity rolled off of him and a stringy bolt leaped up into the sky. Mingi dodged Seonghwa’s attempt to grab him and talk some sense into him before he killed them both.

“Anyone in the city will have seen that,” he explained, dancing out of the way, waiting for Seonghwa’s efforts to cease and then collapsing into the snowdrift from exertion. “Now we wait.” 

And so they did, huddled up together in the alleyway as snow drifted down all around them, until Seonghwa simply couldn’t take it anymore. Mingi was fading, the rune activated again from his stunt with the lightning, and Seonghwa could practically feel the energy draining from him as they clung to each other.

Mingi was barely conscious enough to protest when Seonghwa dragged him to his feet and began to leave the safety of the alcove. If he gave in to the cold biting wind and froze to death on the streets, so be it. It was better than sitting here and watching Mingi slowly succumb to this spell. It was his fault he had been cursed with it anyway, and Seonghwa needed to fix his own mistakes. 

Just as they approached the main street, Mingi mumbling some confused question, two figures appeared in the distance, grey shadows becoming clearer as they advanced through the swirling snow. “Yunho!” Seonghwa called out, almost collapsing with relief. “Jongho! I need help over here!”

Their pace was quickened at Seonghwa’s plea, and soon Jongho and Seonghwa had Mingi supported between them while Yunho asked for a quick explanation. 

“It was that mysterious package,” Seonghwa gritted out. “The address it was made out to was infested with runes. One of them got a little jumpy.” He lifted Mingi’s arm to show the marks to Yunho, whose eyes widened in concern. “It’s inhibiting his powers and sucking energy from him. We need to get him back to the Post immediately,” Seonghwa went on. “Wooyoung and San have to take a look at him. They’re the only ones with knowledge about binding spells… why are you looking at each other like that?”

Seonghwa cut himself off with a frown and gave a pointed glare to Jongho until he spoke up. 

“It’s just that…” Jongho huffed out a dry laugh at the irony. “Wooyoung and San have just gone out on a last-minute urgent letter delivery run.”

“No. No, you can’t be serious,” Seonghwa almost stopped in place from the shock of it, but inside he was screaming at himself to just _get Mingi home._ “Wooyoung and San?! They _never_ go on delivery runs! It couldn’t wait?”

“There was a mixup with the mail flow and San’s cat was involved and the address was completely unknown and apparently it’s not recorded in the book and so of course Hongjoong was in a panic, not to mention you and Mingi being missing,” Yunho said all in a rush as they rounded another street corner. “But it was Jongho who wanted to come after you because he felt responsible, and I’m his partner so of course I had to come with him, and you know there’s no separating Wooyoung and San, so the job just fell to us-”

“Hey, this isn’t my fault!” Jongho fought back, shifting Mingi’s weight back onto Seonghwa so he could open the door. Yeosang beat him to it and quickly ushered them in.

“Alright, everybody breathe,” he interrupted quietly before an argument could break out. Seonghwa was about to ask where Hongjoong was when the postmaster came flying out from the back hallway to see what was going on. 

“Any word from Wooyoung and San?” Yeosang asked him without looking up. “No,” Hongjoong grunted, quickly taking stock of the situation and helping him get Mingi upstairs and to his bed. “By now they should have arrived if they made the train, though.”

“How far away did you send them?” Seonghwa asked, alarmed. “The district is on the outskirts...” Hongjoong trailed off and his voice became distant at the sight of the runes on Mingi’s arm. “What _is_ that?” He breathed, reaching out his hand to touch them.

Yeosang stopped him before he got there, pulling him away. “Dangerous runes. They’re hurting him and they transfer easily.” He released Hongjoong with a pointed look and returned to Mingi’s side. Hongjoong swallowed and stood away from the small crowd. None of them would risk the runes jumping to him, a human. The spell would probably kill him.

“Binding runes,” Jongho realised aloud, inspecting Mingi’s arm closely. “Like the ones on me.”

At his mention of them, all eyes in the room turned towards the markings on his arms and neck. “Jongho…” Yunho gasped, pushing up the younger’s sleeve for a better view. “They’re not glowing!”

Everyone was silent. They all knew what that meant.

_Wooyoung and San were in trouble._

___

“Does this look right to you?” San managed to call out before a gust of wind swept away his words. Wooyoung squinted down what felt like the twentieth street they’ve stopped at, straining to read any address through the heavy snow. The pair had departed the train not long ago to brace the winter storm again with scarves pulled over their noses. Finding the letter’s recipient wasn’t an easy task as Wooyoung and San thought it would be, their footprints tracing back to numerous sidewalks and streets. 

“I think.” Wooyoung finally replied, catching a glimpse of a building number that was awfully close to their intended destination. “Let’s check.”

He led the way down the next misshapen street, additional rooms bulging out of towering homes that clashed in style. Blinding white snow plastered itself on almost every surface, the laundry that was hanging overhead appearing to be paper thin and glossed over with ice. Aside from the street lamps and the wandering postmen, the cramped neighborhood appeared to be void of any life.

At least, that’s what Wooyoung thought. 

San, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching them careen through the night. He told Wooyoung of his discomfort many times, but his companion seemed too concentrated on finding their letter’s address to spare him any attention. San understood Wooyoung’s urgency to finish the delivery with the next train scheduled to arrive soon.

“San! Over here!” Wooyoung suddenly gasped and broke away from San, who had been deeply engrossed in his thoughts whilst being dragged along. He blinked, breaking his daze and watching as Wooyoung picked his way to a dark blue door ahead. It was elevated by a few steps which would’ve been completely hidden by the snow if not for the feeble iron railings sticking up. A rusty brass door knocker was drilled into the center of the door and below that, a mail slot that seemed to shimmer. San perked up at the sight, suppressing his fears momentarily to follow in Wooyoung’s footprints up the stack of steps. 

Arriving at the doorstep, he crouched down in front of the mail slot and opened his coat to retrieve the important letter. It was still safely snuggled in his inside pocket, something that made San let out a relieved breath. With the tightly sealed envelope in hand, he looked over the building number to ensure it matched the written address before slipping it through the slot.

Almost immediately after the letter hit the ground on the other side, San heard a loud clang echo from down the street. He bolted upright, Wooyoung instinctively hovering an arm behind San just in case the heavy snow combined with his speed caused him to fall.

“What was that?” San whispered concernedly, daring to lean on the precarious looking railing to look further down the block. Wooyoung relaxed his arm, huddling behind his companion and observing the same street clouded by snow. He began to shiver after only a few seconds, hating the fact that snow was piling on his shoulders.

“It sounded like a trash can. The wind must’ve knocked it over.” Wooyoung briskly concluded, clearly not thinking of the implications that arose from the unexpected noise. He began to move from the stairs, San quickly grabbing onto his wrist and stopping his exit prematurely.

“A trash can knocked over by the wind?” San hissed in disbelief, meeting Wooyoung’s dumbfounded gaze. “If that were the case, a loud sound wouldn’t have been made. There’s enough snow to silence the impact.” He yanked the scarf from his face to punctuate the absurdity of the male’s claim, not caring about the snowflakes that angrily poked his cheeks.

___

“Jongho! Jongho, wait!”

Hongjoong cut the spirit off before he could leave the room. “Where are you going?”

“Wooyoung and San need help,” Jongho shot back like it was obvious what he was doing. “I know they do, but there’s no way you’ll get to them in time without the train,” Hongjoong reasoned, lowering his arms when it seemed Jongho was paying attention. “We have to trust that they’ll take care of each other. Mingi needs us right now.”

Jongho relaxed and turned back to look at his roommate’s unconscious form. The sight of those binding runes, marring his skin and impairing his dragon connection, a strong and fiery bond they had no place interfering in, moved Jongho to nod in agreement.

“The package!” Seonghwa suddenly spoke up. “I left it in the snow near the delivery location, but it may help us yet.”

“I’ll find it,” Jongho volunteered. “I remember the address.”

Hongjoong allowed it and watched him go. It was best for Jongho to get himself away from more binding runes, and Seonghwa was right, until Wooyoung and San returned there wasn’t much else they could do except hope the package contained something helpful.

They waited impatiently, listening to the occasional updates from Yunho that Mingi’s skin was warming up again, or that the sparks had settled. “His breathing is even again!” He finally breathed, turning to face the others. “I think he’ll pull through!”

Joong released a shaky sigh of relief and turned away.

“You made the right call,” Seonghwa informed him quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder and trying to turn him back around. “If Jongho had gone first, who knows how it would have affected the binding runes on him? And if you had gone? If you had gone, Joong, you probably would have died.”

Hongjoong nodded absently, letting the words wash over him. None of them could have known what was going to happen, but already this evening had been much more eventful than any he could remember. And not in a good way.

At that moment, Jongho returned, package in hand. Quickly, everyone gathered around as he opened the box. To their astonishment, only a small folded piece of paper was inside. “It’s addressed to you,” Jongho said, handing it over to Hongjoong with confusion painted all over his face. “From your father.”

With a shaky swallow, Joong took the letter in hand and read it over quickly.

_My dearest Hongjoong,_

_I remember fondly the day you learned to ride your bicycle. Maybe you remember it too. It was a blustery afternoon and you were frustrated with the wind making it difficult for you to control your path. I remember you frowned up at me with a busted lip from one too many crashes and said, “Dad, I don’t think I can do it.”_

_I fixed your helmet and told you, “I know you can Hongjoong, but maybe you need a little push.” And that was all it took! You stepped off the sidewalk, I grabbed the back of your seat and pushed you as hard as I could. I remember how you cried out, afraid of falling and getting hurt, but in that moment, your feet found the pedals and you kept yourself going._

_Right now you are standing at a fork in the road with a choice to make. This is my way of pushing you in the right direction so you can carry yourself the rest of the way._

_Never stop smiling._

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked gently. “Anything in there that could help us?”

With a bitter shake of the head, Hongjoong dropped the paper and returned to looking out the window.

_What was a letter from his father doing in a package that had been sent to a rune den?_

___

San and Wooyoung walked back down the street cautiously, scanning their surroundings for anything out of the ordinary. And it wasn’t until they reached the end of the block when something unsettling appeared. A trash can, as Wooyoung had assumed, forcefully knocked over and a few rotten contents lodged into the snow. Half of the discarded items were nearly buried by the next layer of snowfall and beside them, a trail of shallow footsteps almost became nonexistent.

Wooyoung pressed himself closer to San as their eyes traveled over tracks, noting that whoever knocked over the trash can barely entered the street before exiting. Carefully, they picked over the rubbish and broke out into the main street, the first leg of their journey back to the train station turned sanctuary. Yet when they looked around, San immediately pulled Wooyoung back into the safety of the tight street. They held their breath, knowing they didn’t have to communicate to know exactly what they saw.

Lingering down the street was a lone spirit and when compared to other residents, was the least of their worries. Every city had its share of rivaling clans and gangs that crept from the depths of alleyways with some bizarre reasoning to cause trouble. The post office had always been wary of them as any sensible person knew better than to get caught in their nearly inescapable web. If everyone _was_ sensible. 

The pair risked their cover to steal another glance at the spirit, suddenly receiving an odd feeling of déjà vu. It was pitch black with wisps swirling from every limb and seemed to be completely lost. The pair knew better than to fall for its act, though. 

The spirit’s dark coloring immediately identified itself as being corrupt, having struck a taxing deal with a greater entity for power in exchange for completing a task. Such contracts are prohibited according to city law, but they somehow still manage to slip under the radar undetected. 

“What do you think it’s doing here?” Wooyoung squeaked, dipping back into the street and pressing his back against a building. He was visibly tense, hands clasped across his lap and frozen feet tapping quickly.

“Nothing good.” San replied, letting out a large breath that became a cloud in the frosty air. “We have to be careful about this. You never know what kind of dirty work they’re up to.” It was common knowledge that gangs often picked up nobodies off the streets to do minor chores, like henchmen for an evil sorcerer. 

Wooyoung nodded. “But we can’t just stay here.”

“If we can see it, that means it can see us.” San reminded his companion, gesturing to the main road.

“Can’t we just go out the other end of this street?”

“...That’s not a bad idea.” 

The pair agreed on Wooyoung’s suggestion, beginning to turn back down the street with the dark blue door. It passed by meaninglessly now that their delivery was done, becoming just an entrance to a house that made up another city borough.

Halfway down the street, Wooyoung and San heard another clang. They jumped from the noise, noticing a gray shadow advancing towards them. Even in the snow, the figure was moving fast enough to frighten them. A broken moan solidified their fears. 

“Run.”

The boys clung onto each other as they flew over snow drifts, kicking up undisturbed plush layers with frantic steps. San could feel the spirit advance on them and despite their effort, the cold weather continued to steal every excess drop of energy they had. 

“It’s too fast!” Wooyoung cried, his scarf having fallen from his face. He squeezed San’s hand as they leapt over another small drift, nearly tripping from the depth of the snow. 

“Then we have to restrict it!” San replied, knowing their pace would leave them with no choice anyway. The pair whipped around to stare down the corrupted spirit, still intertwined. Their free hands were raised and while their legs were shaking, they stood strongly together.

The spirit approached them rapidly, tearing through the snow with incredible speed despite the brutal weather. But before its smokey limbs could curl around Wooyoung or San, a brilliant flash of light stunned it. Runes painted its figure, leaving the spirit confused as they suddenly crackled to life. 

Wooyoung seized the opportunity to continue charging out of the alleyway, dragging San along. Another broken wail erupted nearby, their footsteps quickening at the sound. Bursting onto the next street, the pair looked around wildly for the source and without luck, turned to one another out of breath.

An unspoken agreement formed between the pair as they began to tear down the street in pursuit of the train station, their safe haven. Upon rounding the next corner, San tensed up witnessing another corrupt spirit leap out. A scream of terror was caught in his throat when Wooyoung suddenly barreled into him, sending them both flying into the middle of a snow covered street and the spirit faceplanting not too far away. 

San was first to land, a chill running up his spine as Wooyoung moved beside him. He could hear the crackling of runes, another cry piercing the air as the spirit felt the searing sensation of the markings. San was quickly hauled to his feet, Wooyoung wasting no time to link their arms again and pull him down the street.

He couldn’t help but look back on the spirit, knowing Wooyoung’s power alone wouldn’t be enough to restrict him completely. It was attempting to follow them, but ended up falling a few paces behind, unable to shake the pain from the runes. 

“Do we take this right?” Wooyoung cried. San nodded before taking the lead and making a beeline for the train station. He had memorized their route from earlier, despite all their excess wandering down fruitless streets. 

The entire dash to the station Wooyoung and San remained on edge, hearts refusing to calm and adrenaline continuing to pump in the case of any more unwanted company. Though they arrived at the train station unbothered, noticing a familiar line of gray smoke waiting for them. 

They paid for their train tickets back to the post office, an old woman wearing low resting glasses authenticating the transaction. Then, they deposited their tickets to another worker and hopped onto the train without a cheery farewell. Their compartment was empty, Wooyoung and San looking at the neighboring carts to ensure their safety. A few passengers were seated, but nothing that resembled a corrupted spirit. The coast was finally clear.

San and Wooyoung slumped down into the closest bench, sharing exhausted sighs and head tilts. The whistle blew shortly afterwards, the train churning out of the station and granting the pair a moment of tranquility before the chaos continued back at the Illusion Post.

___

The air around him was buzzing when Mingi opened his eyes. He had barely taken stock of himself when two heads popped into his vision.

Wooyoung and San.

“Feeling any better, you lanky tree?” San poked his patient’s cheek as he teased him. Mingi nodded carefully, eyes trailing down to his arm, where he was afraid a sleeve of deadly rune markings would still be attached to him.

“It’s gone!” He gasped, turning it and checking over every inch. Now that he was conscious again, he felt that the limb no longer pulsated with dark energy. Only his dragon tattoos marked the skin, wrapping around him protectively like they always did.

Wooyoung launched into an explanation of how easy it was to remove the offending runes and how scared everyone had been while they had to wait for the pair to return on their metaphorical white horse, but Mingi was only half listening. Even as he concentrated his energy into his fingertip, a flame would not appear there. Not even a whiff of smoke.

“Shouldn’t my powers be back to normal?” he interrupted, looking between the two in alarm. Wooyoung laughed nervously, the glance at San not going unnoticed by Mingi. “I’m sure they’ll return soon. You should take it easy for a day or two, you know. Even without the binding runes, you were in the cold for a long time.”

Mingi nodded at this logic, but couldn’t help but frown at the severed connection with his dragons. They felt so far away and silent. Even if he had a hard time controlling them from day to day, at least they were energetic and warm. All his limbs were intact, and he should be thankful for being alive, but the cold had moved inside and the absence of his usual fire worried him.

It was well after midnight by the time all eight of them assembled in their living area to talk over the events from the day. Combined, there was a lot to tell, and Mingi listened carefully to all of it, shocked at what he had missed.

Wooyoung and San had made the emergency delivery safely but suspected it was a setup from one of the gangs after they were ambushed by hostile spirits and barely managed to get away.

The package Seonghwa and Mingi had been delivering contained nothing but a cryptic letter apparently from Hongjoong’s spirit father, a name that hadn’t been spoken in quite a few years. He was presumed dead or missing by everyone else they had ever talked to about it, so for a letter to suddenly resurface was extremely curious.

Yeosang seemed to think it was no accident that this letter was involved in the rune mishap.

“Think about it,” he insisted. “A binding rune is dangerous, yes, but if someone really wanted to kill us, they’d use a more lethal spell, wouldn’t they?”

Seonghwa had to agree. He had brought Mingi home over the course of a couple hours, and even as they waited for San and Wooyoung to return, Mingi had persisted. “It may be because he’s strong willed, yes,” he smiled at Mingi who beamed at the praise. “But I think he was only meant to be tested. To see whether he would succumb.”

“Do you think the gang that attacked Wooyoung and San is involved in this?” Yunho posed the question they were all thinking. “I mean, surely we’ve all taken notice of the timing here. We needed them to help Mingi but they were conveniently occupied with an urgent letter and then held up by an attack-”

“They didn’t know who we would send where, whoever they are,” Hongjoong broke in softly. The thought that his father’s name was mixed in all this already tortured him with questions. “That responsibility is mine alone.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jongho rushed to say, uncharacteristically vocal instead of brooding in the corner like usual. “You couldn’t have known, you’re just a human.”

Hongjoong knew it was true and took no offence. When it seemed there was no more to offer, he commanded attention again, voice firm as he laid out what needed to be said.

“This is the Illusion Post. We aren’t front line spirit gang members, we aren’t guardian mages of the first order… we’re delivery boys. We handle spirit mail in a timely and efficient manner. We are not cut out for turf war, or whatever else we’ve somehow become involved in. So _whatever this is_ \- we walk away from it.” 

Everyone hummed in solemn agreement. They wanted no trouble, so they would do everything in their power to avoid being found by it.

“Besides!” San piped up. “We have a holiday gift exchange to plan for!”

___

It was two days later when the blizzard that had rolled in was gone and gentle flurries swirled in the air, that the boys gathered around to give each other gifts. Heaping plates were laden with traditional holiday foods, cooked to perfection over the course of the day. The entire office had been decorated with strings of little twinkling lights and garlands that wrapped around shelves and staircases, little holly sprigs peeking out here and there.

The smells that wafted through the post were tantalizingly warm and homey. The excitement was brimming when the doors were finally closed and only the workers remained for their celebrations.

Jongho hurried to throw his favorite holiday record onto the gramophone and led the boisterous singing as the boys prepared the table and seated themselves, ready to dig in.

“It really is the most wonderful time of the year,” Wooyoung sighed contentedly, his mouth full of pudding. “Thanks for the food, Seonghwa, you outdid yourself!” Yunho proclaimed from across the table. Hwa smiled and shook his head even as he used his napkin to wipe the pudding off Wooyoung’s face. “Don’t just thank me, I had plenty of help.”

“All of us should be proud,” Mingi resolved, setting his empty cup back on the table. “We’ve completely absolved ourselves from the chicken disaster last year.”

Yeosang groaned from where he carefully sliced his (thankfully well cooked) meat. “Don’t remind me. It was atrocious.”

The meal passed in pleasant conversation and reminiscing, until bellies were full and the music had faded to a quiet echo while they congregated in the living room. It was time for the main event.

With painstaking care, each of the candles on the impressive pine tree were lit and all eight postmen were again seated, ready to partake in one of the Illusion’s oldest traditions. Since the office’s founding, the staff had always held a secret gift exchange around the holidays. It was their way of rewarding one another for all their hard work throughout the year. 

Rather than giving each other gifts money could buy, they opted to give gifts that money couldn’t buy- and that was time. Nestled between the dazzling pine branches were eight letters, all addressed to a different member of the post office. At the beginning of the winter season, they were all assigned a coworker to write to. In the days leading up to the exchange, they were to craft a heartfelt letter to their recipient, along with a unique ticket. The contents of these precious parchments could range from a multitude of things, but in seasons past, most commonly entailed fun activities on their scarce off days or taking care of work around the post.

Each member accepted their gift with abundant thanks and excitement for all the situations they could use them on. As the night wore on and the candles burned low, eyelids began to drop and sleepiness descended on the boys. 

They packed themselves off to bed, happy they had been able to enjoy themselves for one precious evening and forget all the stress of their jobs- the day to day and the unusual circumstances of late.

As Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered closed he didn’t think about that other holiday years ago that had been the saddest day of his life. He thought about the evening he had just spent, with the people that had become his new home.

___

And with the changing seasons, the holiday chaos began to wane. Even Hongjoong was persuaded to take a break every once in a while, gazing out the window at the melting snow and the returning rays of sunlight. All the spirit gang madness was resolutely left behind, but, unfortunately, so was the mysterious test.

On evenings when no one was watching, Hongjoong pulled out his letters- two now, instead of just the one, but neither very helpful- and scoured them for clues. Even just a hint at what was coming next, what he was supposed to do, how everything was connected.

Sometimes Hongjoong felt very useless. What could he, a lone human in the vibrant and mystical spirit world, possibly be able to do about the growing threats in the shadows?

What did a humble post office have to do with a brewing clan war?

Now that Hongjoong truly thought about it, not one but _two_ of his members had been affiliated with some of the shadier spirit clans in the past.

Seonghwa, who was the heir to one of the most powerful factions but left that life behind long ago.

And Jongho.

Jongho’s arrival at the Illusion Post was unlike anyone else’s. He had attacked the office one day, mistakenly understanding Hongjoong to be the descendant of a warrior who had slain Jongho and his lord on the field of battle many years ago, when he was in human form and a warrior himself.

Hongjoong chuckled when he thought back to it. For all they knew, he could be the descendant of this killer, but he had no knowledge of it. He knew next to nothing about his own past.

It had been a terrifying debacle, but Wooyoung and San had rushed to help before Jongho exacted his revenge, restraining and binding him with their spells until the misunderstanding was worked out. Jongho remained bound, but was now part of the team. His warrior spirit days were over.

The false intel that put him onto the Post had come from another one of the most powerful gangs in the city. Hongjoong had been wary of that fact since, but now something pulled at his intuition, a dark feeling growing inside that the book was not closed on that encounter.

It went against all the trust Hongjoong had built with both of them to suspect anything at all, and the last thing he wanted was delivery boys turning on each other.

But these strange happenings were beginning to look less and less like accidents, and Hongjoong was keeping both eyes open now to the possibility that something or someone had it out for their post office.

It was the last leg of winter and flowers had begun to pop out of the snow, a calm day at work that had disarmed most of Joong’s fears about lurking spirits and rune traps.

The delivery boys were all out on their routes and the office workers were just about to leave their desks for their breaks when Yeosang suddenly stilled and sat up very straight.

Joong turned to look at him when he didn’t answer a question he had just asked and could tell from the way his fox ears stuck straight up that he was listening to something no one else could hear.

“Something is very wrong.”

Before he could utter another word, the nearest window shattered.

All four of them hit the ground.

The office was under attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back :D The mystery is picking up speed so i hope you enjoy and leave your theories below!! As always hit me or Nori up on twt (@noriimorii and @tiny_tokki) and @cottinstars on insta with any additional feedback or questions :) Have a good day/night~


	4. A Trip to the Getaway House

The sensation of spells whizzing past Hongjoong’s face at top speed jolted him out of his shock.

Masked figures clothed in shadows were jumping through the shattered windows and bleeding into the building with lightning fast movements.

The nearest cover from the paralysis charms that barely missed their targets was Hongjoong’s desk, so he scurried underneath it and tucked his legs under him, eyes frantically searching for the others.

Had any of them been hit?

Just as he spotted a motionless Wooyoung and an alarmed San peeking his head out from around the wall separating the lobby from the hallway, a fire spell crossed his line of sight and blasted into the floor.

Hongjoong squeaked and covered his mouth as smoke and flame billowed up, a wall separating him from the pair. They were barely visible now through the shimmer of heat growing around them, but Hongjoong saw San performing a paralysis countercurse on Wooyoung and tried to make himself relax.

The enemy spirits had fully made their way into the room but hadn’t spotted Hongjoong yet, hidden under the desk with his hands pressed to his mouth to stifle his whimpers.

If he pinched himself, he’d wake up, right?

A hand closing around his arm made him jump and hit his head on the bottom of the desk in surprise.

“It’s me,” Yeosang said quickly. He had army crawled from where he was by the cabinets and rushed to Hongjoong’s defence, as was his instinct and, in a way, his job description. Unfortunately, he was seen in the process. 

“Stay here!” He ordered and, before Hongjoong could argue, was on his feet and charging the nearest spirit, claws extended from his fingertips at his command and sunk into the nearest enemy before he ever saw it coming.

Hongjoong had never seen Yeosang in action before, but he knew what he could do. And he pitied those who opposed him.

Kitsune were known for their intelligence more than anything, but their superhuman speed and strength were formidable in tandem and greatly to be feared in combat. 

Coordination, reflexes, and skill all blended together in a rare magical entity, a shy boy that didn’t usually get his hands dirty with gang wars, but would not hesitate to defend what he was guardian over.

Hongjoong watched him take down opponent after opponent, leaping with deadly grace through the wreckage of the lobby and holding his own without question, when an evil spirit who had slipped his notice broke the line of fire and advanced on San and Wooyoung, coming into Hongjoong’s line of sight.

San was too engrossed in his incantations to heed the gangster approaching him, eyes glazed over as he sped through the chant. Wooyoung’s face was unfrozen now, and he joined San to countercurse in unison. 

Neither saw the enemy about to strike.

In a sudden burst of bravery, Hongjoong left his safe spot and barrelled past Yeosang towards the hallway, pushing with all his might against the nearest bookcase until it toppled, taking out the spirit who was about to strike and smashing into the ground.

The noise jolted Wooyoung and San out of it, but the pair didn’t have a moment to utter their thanks before a hand wrapped around Hongjoong’s throat, slamming him into the wall newly exposed by the falling bookcase.

Hongjoong clawed at the hand, eyes wide and frantic, and the spirit who had caught him moved closer. Joong got a good look at him before his vision began to blur, but the figure he saw was not one he recognised.

All that was visible were his eyes, black mask covering the rest of his face, and they were not angry or gleeful like Hongjoong imagined they would be, they were curious and maybe even confused.

He tried to say something. “W—”

The hand pinning him slid him up higher, feet dangling off the ground now and the world spinning dizzily as he felt the oxygen being cut off.

The attacker wasn’t saying anything, only leaning in as if to sense his aura and staring at him with that strange look in his eyes.

“Why?” Hongjoong managed to croak out before his eyes rolled back.

Suddenly, he was on the ground, choking and coughing but air entering his lungs all the same.

Yeosang kneeled over him, mouth moving in what was probably a cascade of concern. His claws were retracted and he almost seemed to have shrunk back into the humble companion Hongjoong recognised.

“—alright? Answer me, hyung, are you alright?”

Hongjoong waved him off, gasping for breath but hurriedly indicating that he was okay. Just past Yeosang was the spirit gangster who had attacked him, knocked unconscious and bound securely by spells.

Wooyoung and San stood over him with matching grave expressions until they noticed Hongjoong had come to and softened simultaneously.

“Where are the others?” He finally asked once he had pulled himself up to his hands and knees, shrugging off Yeosang’s helping hand with a whine that he could do it himself.

“Gone,” San admitted. “They disappeared when we were distracted with you and this one.” He toed the immobile gangster with disgust and then helped Wooyoung haul him outside where the sound of sirens was growing louder.

Someone had called for help, a neighbour probably.

“I told you to stay under the desk,” Yeosang frowned at him as he rose to put the bookcase back in its place, little more than a lazily cast spell required to do such a job.

“San and Wooyoung needed help.”

“You should have let me handle it,” Yeosang fought back, more insistently this time. “You’re just not equipped to handle situations like this,” he added more softly. It was the nice way of saying it. Hongjoong was incompetent without magic.

Hongjoong finally sat back on his heels and surveyed the damage. Yeosang was milling about, washing flames away with a wave of his hand and straightening toppled furniture. The entire place smelled like smoke and fear. 

Joong remembered the fear he had felt just watching from the wings a couple months ago, when these strange occurrences began. Well scratch that, this was officially the most terrifying thing that had happened to him.

He turned the question over in his mind as officers rushed in with blankets and condescending smiles to escort him outside.

_Who are these people? And what do they want with us?_

___

It was Jongho who halted mid-step in his run and grabbed Mingi’s arm when he saw the smoke.

“What do you suppose that is?” It was almost a whisper that left Mingi’s lips. The sight of smoke ought to set something off inside where his dragons were supposed to be active. Instead, a pit had formed in his stomach, because he couldn’t have caused whatever fire was burning in the distance if he had wanted to.

They had loitered on the doorstep long enough that the resident opened the door to see what the fuss was. Mingi absentmindedly handed the dwarf his small stack of magazines, leaning down to accommodate him as all three turned their gazes on the smoke plume that was growing.

“Looks like the city center,” the dwarf mumbled, juggling his mail and his coffee. “Some government building maybe.”

Jongho pulled Mingi back down the stairs and into the street with a half-hearted goodbye to their customer who retreated back into his home. “A government building? Or could it be…”

He pulled up his sleeve to expose his binding runes. Their glow had once again faded, indicating that their makers were in danger.

“The Illusion Post,” Mingi finished for him, picking up the pace and heading back towards the city center. He had a bad feeling about what they were about to see.

Seonghwa and Yunho had only been a few city blocks away, but the smoke was obscured by the apartment complex they were entering. A young witch on the sixteenth floor with three or four young ones hiding beneath her skirts gratefully accepted the boxes they brought for her. She was signing the forms they had handed her while more children wreaked havoc in the background when the sirens started.

Neither delivery boy thought much of it and the elevator ride back down to the lobby was silent. Crime was a common fixture in the magic infused world they lived in, where not every mystical being used their power for good and humans still found creative ways to cause trouble.

It wasn’t until a breaking news banner flashed across the small television in the lobby as they were walking by that Yunho and Seonghwa slowed.

“I’m receiving information just now that fire has been spotted at a local postal service…”

They stopped in their tracks and turned to face the screen, where a bird-like reporter stretched his wings and accepted some papers being handed to him from off-screen. 

“Several unknown gangster spirits appear to have broken into the post office and we’re sending a team over there now to report back with live footage from the Illusion Post.”

Seonghwa gasped and immediately dragged Yunho off, out of the building and back down the street towards home. The smoke was visible now and they could smell it, too.

Yunho had to pull Seonghwa back from crossing the street when the line of police cars sped past them, red and blue flashing overhead and the wailing of the sirens increasing and decreasing as they turned the corner.

It didn’t take long for the pair to run into Jongho and Mingi, almost colliding with them as they converged on their home street, which now looked like a warzone.

The fire brigade had the blaze handled, at least from the outside, and the police were flooding into the office. True to their word, a couple of karura-hybrid news reporters flew down from the other end of the street and set up their cameras.

“Are they alright? I don’t see anyone…” Yunho’s mumbles were only really intended for himself, but the others all heard them and pushed harder through the growing crowd of spectators.

Seonghwa insisted to the police officer attempting to restrain them that they were employees and needed to be sure their friends were alright. The horned officer refused vehemently until he was distracted by the arrival of the news team and rushed over to stop them from filming.

“Wooyoung and San! Look!” Mingi saw them first, exiting the office with a rune-bound figure in between them and handing him off to be packed into a police car before being tackled in hugs by the delivery boys. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

San laughed off Seonghwa’s question and pulled him in for another hug for good measure. 

“We have no idea what just happened, if we’re honest—”

“—and we’re just fine but it was close with that paralysis spell,” Wooyoung finished for him.

“Paralysis spell?” Mingi’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

“We’ll explain everything later,” it was Yeosang who had snuck up on them and was subjected to all the rounds of hugging before he could continue, “I’m sure the police will be wanting to take testimonials.”

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked tentatively when he had scanned their area, which was already being closed off by police tape. 

His question was answered when Joong emerged from inside the office, a blanket thrown over his shoulders and an officer leading him out gently.

The lost expression on his face melted into relief when he saw all seven of them waiting for him, and he ran forward to meet them in hugs.

The officer who had been guiding him stepped back to give them all some privacy and Hongjoong took that as a cue to immediately complain about her.

“I don’t know why they’re all treating me like glass,” he mumbled. “I fought back too.”

“Yeah, he saved our skins,” San piped up. “Crushed a spirit under a bookcase.”

Impressed, Mingi clapped Joong on the back a little harder than he was expecting, but he smiled up at him anyway. 

Seonghwa frowned at the marks on Hongjoong’s neck and the way his hands shook where they clung to the blanket he claimed he didn’t need and decided to change the subject.

“The gangsters who attacked you- is there any indication who they are? What they want with us?”

“You’re free to check the one we captured,” Wooyoung sighed. “He’s unconscious but even when he comes to... I have a feeling we won’t get anything out of him.”

The group turned to the police officer who was waiting patiently for them and followed as she walked to the car that contained the single prisoner from the attack.

“Seeing as how you captured him yourself, I figured it wouldn’t be too inappropriate to ask if you could identify him,” the officer explained after introducing herself as the investigator for this case.

All eight of them crowded around, trying to get a look through the car window and struggling amidst each other’s elbows and craning necks.

Seonghwa nudged his way to the front and squinted at the unconscious spirit. “There! Look at the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve.”

Everyone directed their attention on the mark in question. It looked like it had grown in phases, the outward edges more lightly inked than the inside. “You see the mitsu-tomoe in the middle?” Seonghwa pointed out the circle of three commas, so entrancing that they seemed to swirl before their eyes. “Like the symbol you see on taiko drums. It represents thunder spirits.”

“Explains their affinity for fire,” Mingi mumbled, somewhat bitterly.

“And below the mitsu-tomoe,” Seonghwa went on. “The horns. They represent power, strength- the commitment to defending their territory. This spirit is a member of the kaminari-gumi.”

“I’ve never heard of that clan,” Yeosang responded, brows furrowing in confusion. 

“Nor have I,” the police officer interjected. She looked as surprised as the rest of them to hear this. “What is your experience with this gang?”

Seonghwa ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Only whispers. They have massive operations running underneath everyone’s noses and have for years. It’s a very secretive group, anyone trying to defect that risks spilling their secrets won’t get out alive.”

Hongjoong shuddered at this, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how suspicious it sounded. Yes, it stood to reason that Seonghwa remembered the rival gang’s symbol from his youth. But a whisper in the back of Hongjoong’s mind warned him that he may yet be a traitor.

The police officer nodded and motioned the driver to take the prisoner away. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like all of you to come to the station with me and tell us what you know.”

Demurely, all eight of them agreed and piled into the vehicle that waited for them. The station was large and extensive, with many different departments and divisions for the complicated task of ensuring justice in a city such as theirs.

As their investigating officer ran to get them a secure room, Jongho pulled Hongjoong aside. “I think the gang that gave me false intel on you, the one that helped me attack the Illusion Post all that time ago, is the kaminari-gumi.”

He got straight to the point. Joong’s eyes widened at this and he checked that no one was listening in before asking, “How do you know?”

“I only ever had dealings with a low level member. He gave me the information that you were the descendant of my killer and told me where to find you. All he said was that he was affiliated with the most powerful gang, which I assumed was tachi-kai or another one, but his tattoo looked a bit like this spirit’s,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the holding cells before continuing. “Only the mitsu-tomoe part of the tattoo could be seen, not the horns. So he was a new member, or not as powerful, or something.”

“That’s the second time they’ve done something to hurt us,” Hongjoong sighed. “What could they possibly have against the Post?”

Another mystery remained unanswered and the eight boys filed into an interrogation room where the investigating officer began the recording and let them get comfortable.

“Why don’t we start with the attack? Where were each of you and what exactly happened?”

___

A couple hours of storytime later the coffee had grown cold and everything that could be said had been. They were no closer to understanding why the kaminari-gumi had attacked them.

“If you remember anything else or receive threats of any kind, reach out to me,” the officer said while they filed back out, issuing Hongjoong her card.

“And if you learn anything about why we were attacked,” Hongjoong said quietly, biting his lip anxiously. “You’ll call us too, right?”

The officer nodded encouragingly and Joong took it as his cue to go. Just as he reached the door, he turned back again with one last question.

“You don’t think they’ll come back, do you?”

The detective must have sensed the fear in his voice because she stepped closer to lay a hand on his shoulder. He tried emphatically to quell his shaking.

“It’s alright, Hongjoong,” she calmed him. “Fear is normal. Everyone experiences it. And it’s something that keeps us alive.”

The words were reassuring, but even more so was the fact that this officer was a full human.

It was quite commonplace for a magical being to present as human, or for at least a few drops of magical blood to be flowing through most people, but not this officer. She was like him.

It didn’t say so anywhere on her uniform, but from the way she smiled at him Hongjoong could feel deep down that there was no trace of magic in her. At some point it had just reached his consciousness.

He wondered offhandedly how she had managed to land a police job.

“But to answer your question,” she was still talking and Joong reigned his thoughts back in to focus on her. “I don’t think they will. Not now that the police are involved. If anyone gives you trouble, you know who to call.”

Hongjoong accepted this answer and went out to meet the others.

The rest of the day was filled with rebuilding and airing out the post office. None of the damage that had been done was irreversible, especially with the help of spells and incantations, but the decision was made to close the Illusion Post for the next day, just until they could get back on schedule.

“That’s showing our attackers that they scared us,” Yunho argued. “If we just act like nothing happened, maybe they’ll stop interfering.” 

“I think they’re trying to do more than scare us,” Yeosang responded dryly. “But all that aside, we still need the extra time to recover.”

Hongjoong was only half listening, righting his desk and letting his hands fall naturally on the secret drawer. The one containing the box from his father. “I think I’ll move it upstairs for protection,” he mumbled mostly to himself before heading to the stairs.

That evening while Seonghwa showered, Hongjoong settled in with the package tucked underneath his bed. There weren’t any other places he could think of hiding it, and he wasn’t even sure why he had felt the need.

“Do you think they’re after this?” He asked when Seonghwa emerged, motioning towards the package.

Seonghwa glanced at it and hummed in thought, even as he focused on drying his hair. He knew immediately that Hongjoong was talking about the kaminari-gumi spirits.

Hongjoong went on tentatively. “Do you think… do you think maybe that’s why they attacked us?”

“It’s possible,” Hwa said softly, putting the towel down. “I guess I only ever thought of the kaminari-gumi clan having it out for mine.”

For a split second Joong had forgotten about Seonghwa’s lineage again. He could see the tattoo of dual swords on his arm and wasn’t above staring at it for a moment. Usually, Seonghwa did his best to cover it up to avoid any unnecessary altercations, but it wasn’t always possible.

Unfortunately, it seemed Seonghwa had left a life of violence only for violence to find him again. 

It made sense that he thought the attackers were after him.

“How did you get your tattoo? Back when you were…” Hongjoong was tripping over what he wanted to say but Hwa encouraged him on with a nod. “When you, you know… back then?”

“Ah…” Seonghwa let out a small laugh and gazed at the tattoo himself. “Clan members are born with them. If it’s in your bloodline, it will appear naturally over time. The size and detail you have indicate the amount of power you’ve attained. That’s why I can tell that the spirit who attacked you is strong. One of their most important members, probably an assassin.”

Hongjoong swallowed and sunk lower into bed at this while Seonghwa cringed at his own poor choice of words. 

“So,” he quickly tried to change the subject back. “You think whatever is in this box your father left you is powerful enough to involve the kaminari-gumi?”

“I don’t know what I think,” Joong sighed, turning out the light. “I’m just scared.”

___

The next morning brought them a host of new problems. Yeosang woke to a chattering crowd outside the Post, presumably there to support the group and offer their well-wishes, but to his dismay he realised it wasn’t a community recovery effort and actually an angry mob of customers demanding they reopen.

“You’d think they would be more understanding,” he huffed firmly closing the door after affixing another sign to it. “Can’t you all read? It says ‘closed today,’ just come back tomorrow!” He shouted out the window and stuck his head back in before closing it firmly, too.

“Where’s Hongjoong?” Yunho asked, scarfing down his oatmeal despite not actually having anywhere to be. It was practically a day off, but old habits die hard. Various shrugs and grunts sounded around the table before Yeosang volunteered to go look for him.

Angry customers, crowded office, stressful situation… he would be in the storage closet.

Yeosang marched over and opened the door, suspicions confirmed. There he was, hidden among miscellaneous boxes and papers, trying to control his breathing and looking very surprised to have company. The package his father had left him all those years ago was wrapped protectively in his arms.

“Come on,” Yeosang said softly, offering a hand that was taken as soon as Joong had relinquished his grip on the box. “I have a better idea than the storage closet.”

A few moments later they had snuck out the back entrance and slipped through the alleyways to reach Main Street. Hongjoong quickly caught on to the plan and immediately voiced his disapproval.

“I’m not traumatized, Yeosang, I don’t need a- a recovery vacation. There’s work to do still.”

 _Work you weren’t doing in the storage closet_ , Yeosang was tempted to fire back sarcastically. Instead, he led Hongjoong to the end of the street and tried to remember the route to their destination. He didn’t really get out much.

“That’s not what this is, Joong,” Yeosang sighed, eyes darting back and forth. “This area of the city isn’t safe anymore.”

“Isn’t safe anymore?” Hongjoong spluttered. “Yeosang, Mrs. Yoon’s kids are literally playing in the street over there.”

“Mrs. Yoon’s kids can also breathe fire, Hongjoong,” Yeosang reminded him with a roll of his eyes. _Oh, right. It’s this way._ “Just trust me on this.”

“Oh, I get it,” Hongjoong sighed, watching the children play with a wistful glint in his eyes. “This is all because you think I can’t defend myself.”

Yeosang stopped in his tracks and turned to face him fully. “Hongjoong, don’t make me ask you to start complimenting yourself.” His worry was concealed under cool cynicism, but it was there and Joong recognised it for what it was.

“No thanks!” Hongjoong scoffed, brushing past him. “Had enough of that in school. So where are we going anyway?”

___

Yunho skipped over with another full container of unsorted letters, Wooyoung wasting no time to grab one and cast a binding spell over it. Once secured, he handed the letter to San to place a second protective seal on it for good measure before stacking it.

In the short time Yeosang and Hongjoong fled the post office, the mob outside only worsened. Their insistent pleas grew louder, to the point where the remaining members couldn’t hear themselves think without the outside noise interrupting their thoughts. Worry quickly sparked between them, launching them into a whole debate about whether or not to defy the sign posted on the front door. 

Yesterday’s unforeseen accident coupled with the police interrogation nearly set them an entire day behind schedule -- half of the mail wasn’t delivered to their recipients. The members knew how urgent some of their deliveries were, but double checked that nothing would be jeopardized by taking today off. Yet, that didn’t make ignoring the public’s cries any easier.

Which resulted in the accumulative decision that while no new mail would be accepted, the Post would still make an effort to play catch-up with yesterday’s deliveries and satisfy some of their customers.

“Mingi! Jongho! Hurry up with those packages!” San called loudly as Wooyoung handed him another letter, the once brimming bin of mail already half exhausted. Seonghwa excused himself as he skated around the table, taking a neat stack of letters and gliding back across the sorting room to divvy the postage. Yunho was managing distribution between the four delivery bags, letting out an exhausted sigh as Seonghwa returned with more mail.

Just then, Jongho entered the room with a handful of packages. Wooyoung pushed the letter bin into San’s workspace without warning, the male unphased by the action as he continued to seal letters. Jongho carefully placed his boxes on the desk, slowly backing away from the fragile mass. Wooyoung steadied any wavering pieces, removing one stubborn package at the top before thanking Jongho and asking, “Where’s Mingi?”

“He should be here any moment-” Jongho began to reply, only to hear a scream followed by a series of thuds from outside the sorting room. Everyone immediately recognized the sound as Mingi, not hesitating to drop everything and race into the hallway, practically tripping over one another. 

In the tight space, Mingi was standing in shock while a few large packages encircled his feet. Thankfully, he was carrying less than Jongho and at first, the group thought his sudden outcry was for nothing. He seemed unharmed… until they noticed a familiar glow slowly consuming one of the packages. 

“Mingi! Get away from that!” Seonghwa cried, nimbly picking over the boxes and prompting San to grab the water bucket from the last office fire caused by Mingi. The odd thing was, it hadn’t been used since that day and normally, Mingi would’ve initiated at least one other fire-related accident by now. Wooyoung and Jongho were left to pick up the sprawled packages, passing them back to Yunho who dashed in and out of the sorting room. 

San returned right on time as Seonghwa moved Mingi away from the flame, quickly throwing the water on the package. The fire immediately died, leaving the box in an undesirable condition. Everyone let out a collective breath of relief, turning to Mingi who was staring blankly at the soggy package.

“Mingi, what happened?” Jongho practically yelled, gesturing to the damaged box. The fire user simply looked at his hands in confusion, replying, “I don’t know.”

“Then how do you explain that?” Jongho continued, crossing his arms in slight irritation.

“I don’t know! I haven’t been able to start a proper flame in weeks.”

Silence fell over the pair as they looked down at Wooyoung and San, who were straining to read the package’s address smeared by water. They acted completely oblivious to Mingi’s incoherent statement, Jongho clearing his throat loudly to get their attention. Wooyoung looked over at the pair expectantly, Yunho and Seonghwa having retreated back into the sorting room to assess the condition of the dropped packages.

“Didn’t you say Mingi’s powers should’ve been restored a while ago?” Jongho recalled, watching as San tore towards the front desk to presumably check the tracking book.

“Haven’t they? You saw the fire.” Wooyoung responded with a raised brow.

“Yes, but that was the first time I’ve created a flame in a while.” Mingi reminded him. 

“Perhaps some of the runes still linger. A residual effect.” Wooyoung guessed.

“But it’s been almost an entire season!” The red haired male cried, worry starting to grow in his voice.

“Then there must be something else wrong.” Wooyoung briskly concluded, picking up the soggy box with visible distaste. “I don’t know what, but we’ll worry about it later. We have to get back to work.” He casted Mingi a sympathetic glance, slipping back into the sorting room to transfer the salvageable contents of the drenched package into a dry box. 

Mingi sighed, noticing the mob had quieted when San stuck his head out of the window to announce today’s schedule after checking the charred package’s status. Jongho placed a comforting hand on Mingi’s shoulder before guiding him back into the sorting room, where Yunho and Seonghwa were concluding their postage distribution.

The delivery boys kicked off from the Post shortly after, Mingi unable to shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong with him as he ran familiar routes.

___

They stood outside a place Hongjoong hadn’t seen in years. It was a small apartment, tucked into a row of identical sibling houses, and it was completely abandoned, nearly to the point of dilapidation. Hongjoong breathed out all the bad memories that had accumulated on his mental map of this home and turned to face Yeosang.

“Why here?”

The kitsune’s gaze was on the rusted gate that swung in the early spring breeze, the grating squeaks of the hinges protesting the movement. 

“It seemed like the best option,” he finally answered. “No one lives here now so it’s a good spot for a getaway, and not to mention… we need answers. And something tells me this is the right place to start looking.”

With that, Yeosang pushed past the gate and led the way up the front steps. Hongjoong swallowed his uncertainty and followed him.

All it took was Yeosang’s formidable claw tip to pick the lock, even though Joong watched over his shoulder biting his nails the entire time, and the two were in.

It was the same house Hongjoong remembered from growing up, only darker and dirtier. The windows were boarded up, forcing thin slivers of light through and casting them on the floor. It exposed swirls of dust travelling through the air and made the apartment feel a lot spookier than Hongjoong was used to.

He moved to tear down the boards but Yeosang stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Don’t,” he whispered. “The neighbours will notice.” Instead, he pulled a flashlight out of his bag and switched it on, handing a second one to Hongjoong. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Hongjoong sighed, switching it on. 

“Thankfully the place isn’t huge,” Yeosang chuckled, moving into the next room with footfalls as quiet as a fox’s. “Did you turn it over for clues after your father sent you to live with us at the Post?”

“No,” Hongjoong grunted, pulling on sticky kitchen cabinets to find them full of non-perishables. “I never got the chance and I didn’t want to come back here anyway. All he explicitly left me was the package.”

But now that another letter of his had turned up where it shouldn’t be, Hongjoong was questioning everything around his father’s disappearance all over again.

“Houseplants are all dead,” he whined, looking at the windowsills but perking up at some of the succulents in the living area. “This cactus is still alive somehow.”

Yeosang chuckled at him from where he was tapping on floorboards. Hongjoong raised an eyebrow at him, but Yeosang quickly explained. “You said he was very secretive. He may have been hiding something. He may have even _wanted_ you to come looking.”

Hongjoong inched up the stairs, mindful of the creaking boards, and inspected the bathroom until Yeosang joined him. Together they moved into Hongjoong’s old bedroom, where both paused in the doorway.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Yeosang said softly, veering off into the spirit’s old bedroom.

Everything was exactly as Joong had left it. Bed half-made from when he had gotten up that day. Dresser drawers filled with clothes that were much too small for him now. Cobweb-covered stacks of records he used to blast on full volume when his father was out of the house. Posters that had long since fallen off the wall and peeled to shreds. A bookcase full of journals filled with doodles, stories, and experiments, all of them covered in layers of dust. 

It was like the room had been frozen in time, suspended forever in the single moment Hongjoong had left the house that fateful day. He navigated the graveyard of toys on the floor and picked up one of the sketchbooks, sitting on the little bed to flip through it. 

He had been staring at a messy painting of him and his father holding hands and ice skating, reliving the day he had drawn it, for at least the past five minutes when Yeosang suddenly poked his head in.

“I think I’ve found something.”

Yeosang reached out and handed him a letter. Another piece of the puzzle.

_My dearest Hongjoong,_

_By now I’m sure you know you were adopted. I’m sure you figured it out a long time ago, after looking around at the other families, after wondering where your mother was, after listening to the other children tell you your parents didn’t want you. I’m sure you discovered I wasn’t your biological parent when I lit the candles of your birthday cake just by staring at them, and you couldn’t produce a single spark of magic no matter how hard you tried. I made sure to tell you that day and every day since how much I wanted you, no matter how strange it might seem. You don’t know how true that is. Hongjoong, you weren’t adopted. You were stolen. I stole you as a baby and I cannot begin to express how much I regret not telling you sooner. You won’t understand why I did it if I try to explain, but please know that I am sorry for everything you’ve suffered and everything you’re going to suffer._

_Whether you resent me now or not—_

_Never stop smiling._

Hongjoong looked up to see Yeosang staring at him like he might erupt into tears at reading what he just had, but instead he just felt frozen. Like the action figures on his bedroom floor, numb to the feet that trampled on him.

Eventually Yeosang took the paper out of his hands and gently suggested that they move the bedding to the living room and sleep there for the night. In a melancholy haze, Hongjoong helped him drag the mattresses down, get the fireplace going, and cook them a dinner of canned food.

“He was a horrible person,” he finally said when his bowl was empty and the sun had set. “I didn’t know him at all.” He had half a mind to throw that letter and all his old drawings into the fire, but Yeosang had a firm grip on them and Hongjoong didn’t think he could actually go through with it anyway.

“Who steals a baby from someone else,” Yeosang muttered rhetorically, voice growing after a short pause. “No I mean, really, who steals a baby? And a human one at that.”  
  
Hongjoong blinked and looked at him curiously. He wasn’t being rude, he actually had a point. “Maybe... the pressure of being such a powerful spirit? He wanted a human child that wasn’t so high maintenance?”

“Then why not adopt one?” Yeosang turned to face him, shadows from the fire dancing on his face as he looked down at the letter in his hands. “All this gives us is more questions.”

“His previous letter was about having a choice to make,” Hongjoong said, wrapping himself up in blankets and leaning back onto his mattress. “What if... what if I made the wrong choice and that’s why all these bad things are happening?”

“It’s not your fault,” Yeosang reassured him, flopping onto his makeshift bed as well. “There’s a lot happening here, and we’ve only scratched the surface.”

Soon the fire had dimmed and the crickets were chirping outside. The pair passed the time in amiable silence until Joong had something else to say.

“You should have told me we were spending the night, I would’ve brought the package with me. I don’t like it being unguarded back at the Post.”

“If it’s the package they’re after, taking it everywhere with you is exactly what they’ll expect,” Yeosang yawned, nestling into his blankets. “Trust me on this.”

Hongjoong hummed in submission and let himself be carried off by sleep. Sometimes it seemed Yeosang was the only person he could trust.

___

San awoke to the sound of the telephone ringing downstairs. He turned over in his bed to check the time, realizing they were set to open in less than two hours. Quickly, he leapt out of the bed and roused Yunho, only to find he was awake. Wide awake.

“Oh… good morning.”

“Good morning.” Yunho mumbled unenthusiastically, groaning as the telephone stopped ringing momentarily only to start back up again.

“How long have you been awake?” San hummed, picking his outfit for the day.

“For hours. The phone has been ringing nonstop.” The blonde haired boy replied, blinking his heavy eyelids and letting out another broken cry. 

“Really?” San hummed in the midst of changing, not paying attention to the telephone’s ringing. To him, it was white noise but to Yunho, it was constant agony. 

“ _Really_. San, could you please answer the phone? I think I’m going insane.” Yunho begged, watching as San tied his shirt’s bow with a nod. 

He promptly slipped out of the room and flitted down the hall, knocking and hollering on other bedroom doors along the way. Usually Yeosang would kick start everyone’s day, but because of his impromptu field trip with Hongjoong, someone else had to fulfill his morning responsibilities.

San trickled down the stairs and beelined to the front desk, where the telephone was ringing relentlessly. He swiftly picked up the receiver and began cranking the box’s handle to connect with the other line.

Suddenly, the receiver began to quiver in his hand and without warning, a spirit exploded from the line. San let out a surprised yelp, eyes screwing shut as he shoved the receiver away. The spirit let out a high pitched laugh, waking everyone up if San hadn’t already.

“ _Finally_! Hey, you!” The spirit called naggingly, San finding the courage to open his eyes and look upon his newfound company. It was some kind of telephone demon rather than a spirit, its flame reminiscent body coiling out from the top of the receiver and its gaze mischievously unreadable. San couldn’t tell if it was angry or if that was its natural expression.

“M- Me?” San stammered out, adjusting the glasses on his face.

“Yes you! Who else would I be talking to?” The demon laughed. “Do you know how long the operator had me on hold?” It paused, as if inviting San to respond to his question. But as San opened his mouth to guess, the telephone demon cut him off. 

“Four hours!” It howled with laughter, San feeling the color drain from his face. 

“That’s a long time…” He managed to reply.

“You’re telling me! I was almost ready to give up calling this place… which reminds me…” The demon trailed off and paused. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

 _A bone to pick? With me?_ “Could you… be more specific?” San squeaked through his onset of fear.

“Sure. My package wasn’t handled correctly when delivered.” The demon was very straightforward with its complaint. “The box looked fine, but its contents were slightly damaged. Like someone had jostled it around, dropped it even.” 

San felt his heart flip at the second statement, looking over his shoulder again when he heard a series of small gasps. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Mingi had snuck up behind him to watch the telephone demon with fascination. 

Except for Mingi. 

His expression soured once he heard the demon’s complaint, a pit forming in his stomach. Everyone immediately knew who was responsible for the call that cost Yunho a few precious hours of sleep. 

Before he could hear anything else, Mingi slipped away from his coworkers and slunk back down the hall. He nearly shouldered Jongho whilst clambering up the stairs and managed to catch a sleepy Yunho’s attention in the bathroom mirror as he slammed his bedroom door. 

Yunho could sense the disturbed air surrounding Mingi, knowing well the male hasn’t been acting himself lately. Especially after yesterday’s incident coupled with the remnants of the binding spell. On finishing his morning routine, Yunho slipped across the hall and knocked on the door. “Mingi? Can I come in?”

A minute passed until he heard a soft mumble, a signal that Yunho was allowed inside. Mingi was sitting on his bed with his elbows resting atop his knees and his sleeves rolled up to reveal his twin dragon tattoos. He was carefully tracing one of them with a finger, wishing nothing more than to feel their warmth again. 

Mingi belonged to a noble family, known for their expertise in manipulating familiars. At some point, he used to perfectly fit his family’s name, wielding his dragons and fire with seasoned ease despite being a child. Until something severed his ties with his dragons in his late youth and although time had healed some things, everything was still far from perfect. 

“Yunho, how do you do it?” Mingi began as Yunho approached him, looking up at the boy with a saddened expression.

“Do what?” Yunho responded, lowering down on his hunches to relax Mingi’s neck. 

“Build connections with your familiars.” 

Mingi and Yunho were similar in those aspects, that they were both fire users with familiar connections. But unlike Mingi, Yunho had no magical connection to his familiars. He could simply summon them whenever he wished for a short period of time with a paper spell and his powers would remain unaffected. 

Yunho bit his lip, carefully formulating what he wanted to say. “It’s like taking care of any living thing. You need to show it compassion and give constant care. But even before that, you need to make sure you’re grounded enough to commit to those things. Whatever you’ve been holding onto, you need to let go in order to rebuild your connections.”

“Will you help me then?” Mingi suddenly questioned. He expected the process to take a while and that by having some assistance, it would motivate him further to regain what he’s lost.

Yunho nodded to Mingi’s delight, the red haired boy beginning to smile widely. Although he might not be the most well versed on Mingi’s connection with his dragons, Yunho was willing to lend his little expertise to properly rekindle his friend’s fire.

“I’ll help you. I promise.”

___

  
As light filtered in from the east and sun-dipped apartments brightened in the mid-morning, Yeosang’s ears twitched at the sound of someone moving around the empty house.

Still as gloomy as it had been when they entered, the atmosphere gave Yeosang a bad feeling that made his eyes open almost of their own accord.

The fire had long since gone out, leaving a wispy trail of woodsmoke, and Hongjoong’s makeshift bed was empty and unmade, still a mess of sheets and tangled blankets.

Instinctively, Yeosang’s claws extended and he silently crossed the room to where the noise was coming from.

The kitchen.

With a deep breath, he leapt around the corner and came face to face with the intruder.

Hongjoong screeched and dropped an armload of canned beans, before grabbing his heart. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Yeosang said dully, blinking the remnants of sleep out of his eyes and retracting his nails. This place was making him jumpy.

“Beans for breakfast,” Hongjoong chuckled nervously, moving past him to rekindle the fire. 

“You’re up early,” the kitsune pointed out. Usually it was the other way around, with Yeosang opening up shop while Hongjoong slept in. It had been that way ever since they were little, when Yeosang had woken up one morning to find that there was a human boy sleeping at the Post, and he was going to stay there now and it was his duty to protect him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Joong answered simply, dumping the food into a pot and giving it a stir. It made sense that his mind wouldn’t settle with all the questions floating around. Why had the spirit stolen him just to give him up? How was the mysterious package he gave them involved in all this? Where had the spirit disappeared to? How many more of his letters were out there? What did the kaminari-gumi want with them?

Many of the questions had been there already, but this getaway trip had released even more into the air. It seemed like they all fit together, but it was unclear exactly how. Yeosang could only try to keep looking at the big picture.

“This place is fraught,” Joong sighed as soon as they had finished eating. It was an unnamed plea that they head home rather than linger and continue to be disappointed.

“I don’t think we’re done yet,” Yeosang said softly from where he washed the dishes. Somehow the water was still working despite the house remaining unoccupied. He sent a silent thank you to whichever company was eating the cost without realising it. “There’s more we can do here,” he explained. 

Hongjoong didn’t argue, offering no more than a nod of agreement, but followed after Yeosang instead of branching off on his own.

They made for the study, and Joong didn’t even spare a glance to his old bedroom.

The top three drawers of the desk were filled with perfectly commonplace items. Paperclips, stapler, rubber bands, all kinds of writing utensils and even file folders of bills and other financial forms.

It was when Yeosang tried pulling on the bottom drawer and found it locked that Hongjoong’s eyebrows lifted in interest.

“It needs a special key,” Yeosang concluded after picking it with his claw didn’t work like it had on the front door. “There’s some kind of spell on it.”

Even more interesting. The spirit had gone out of his way to hide what was in here from whoever might come sniffing.

“Well, it has to be here somewhere,” Hongjoong posited, reaching for the desk lamp to turn it on. Just as his hand made contact, sparks flew off the lamp and he reeled back with a cry.

“Are you alri--”

“Fine,” Hongjoong reassured quickly, shaking the sensation from his hand. “It just zapped me.”

Yeosang was about to reach for his flashlight when an idea crossed his mind. Joong let out a little gasp as he reached for the lamp, whispering to be careful.

When Yeosang touched it, nothing happened. The kitsune smirked and picked it up, exposing a little key hidden underneath the base, twinkling in the green light.

“How did you know it would be there?” Joong shook his head in amazement as he picked it up.

“It zapped you to scare you away,” Yeosang explained as it was handed to him. “From the key, presumably.”

With a deep breath, he slotted it in and opened the drawer as soon as it clicked into place. The pair were met with an overflowing stack of letters. Making a small noise of surprise when he saw the addressee for each of them, Yeosang handed several over to Hongjoong.

“Who is this person?” Joong mumbled as he skimmed some of the letters. Rare ingredients, lack of progress, condition worsening-- all phrases frequently used in what appeared to be correspondence between Hongjoong’s father and a colleague of his.

“This is the most recent,” Yeosang pointed out, handing a letter without a matching envelope to him. “But it’s like they were speaking in code. I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

“‘I fear what has been put into motion cannot be stopped,’” Hongjoong read aloud. “‘No cure in the world has changed fate when it comes to a Prophecy of these proportions. If only we could have enjoyed our time… Go in peace now, and live out the rest of your days. You did everything you could.’ Yeosang, they were looking for some kind of cure.”

Yeosang nodded, deep in thought, and offered a suggestion, “This companion of his told him to live out the rest of his days. Why does it sound like he was dying from something?”

“Could that be what they were trying to cure?” Hongjoong asked quietly, eyes glazing over at the idea. 

“There’s nothing else here,” Yeosang finally sighed when every letter had been scoured completely. “I think we might as well go home.”

“But there is something,” Joong gasped, taking an envelope in hand and pointing to the words on the top left corner. “We have an address.”

Yeosang didn’t like where this was going, but Hongjoong took his hand and met his eyes. There was hunger for answers in them, and already it was too late to stop him.

“We can track this person down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading that monster of a chapter! You probably have just as many questions as our characters do, so let us know in the comments what you thought :)


	5. Memory Lane

In the days that followed the attack, spring slowly began to unfold. For the Illusion Post and many alike, the season marked annual spring cleaning.

Since the early morning, the members had been busy cleaning their shared bedrooms. Brooms and washcloths were constantly rotated between them, resulting in many irritated questions about location. 

Thankfully, Seonghwa’s constant need for cleanliness saved Hongjoong from having to demand cleaning utensils from his members. But that didn’t mean he was completely free of work.

“Hey Joong, can you take the laundry downstairs?” Seonghwa asked in the midst of making his bed. Hongjoong nodded, grabbing the hamper and slipping into the hallway before Seonghwa loudly added, “And when you’re done, you can start cleaning the sorting room. The same goes for all of you!”

An incoherent cluster of acknowledging words came from the occupied members, Jongho suddenly appearing in the hallway with another hamper. 

“Jongho! Catch!” Mingi peeked out from the doorframe, throwing his roommate a white button up shirt. Jongho caught it without glancing back and deposited it into the hamper. 

Together, Jongho and Hongjoong skipped down the stairs only to stop halfway. 

“Hold on!” Yeosang called, rushing down to join the pair before they resumed their descent. Depositing their laundry in the backroom to be washed, the trio moved to the sorting room.

The room’s many compartments were filled with letters and packages, all awaiting to be delivered once their cleaning session concluded. Desks were messily organized with legal documents ready to be filed away and handfuls of quills hidden under said documents. 

Yeosang and Hongjoong were quick to begin with the desks, leaving Jongho to grab cleaning supplies from the closet. Eventually, the remaining members trickled into the sorting room and the spring cleaning was in full swing.

The delivery team dusted shelves, removed postage that was never claimed and emptied out the trash cans while the office team busied themselves with organizing filing cabinets and sorting compartments. They worked diligently under Seonghwa’s supervision, questions and supplies alike flying around the room.

“I’m going to start doing the laundry,” Seonghwa announced after a while, stepping down from a small ladder to scan the room. Byeol was sleeping soundly above one of the cabinets, immediately giving away the location of a certain coworker. “San, would you like to help me?”

San poked his head out front behind a cabinet door, documents clutched protectively to his chest and glasses resting precariously on his nose. “I’m pretty busy at the moment, hyung.”

“What about you, Wooyoung?” 

The boy in question looked at Seonghwa dumbfounded, not noticing that Yeosang was prompting the next paper to file away. It wasn’t until the kitsune lightly smacked his head that Wooyoung returned to his senses and Seonghwa received his answer.

“Come on, Mingi. I’m sure Jongho can finish cleaning that for you.”

Mingi perked up at Seonghwa’s comment, gaze flicking hesitantly between his washcloth and the half wiped desk. He was skeptical about washing the clothes, but when Jongho nodded, he was left with no excuse.

Reluctantly, Mingi began to follow Seonghwa out of the sorting room with a fearful glint in his eyes. Yunho noticed this and sent Mingi a reassuring glance, understanding his fear. They had been working to connect with Mingi to his dragons, slowly and steadily, but that didn’t mean accidents still weren’t prevented from happening. 

Once Seonghwa and Mingi disappeared from sight, everyone seemed to relax without the eldest observing them. San speedily dropped his hefty document stack on the floor and reached into the depths of the cabinet.

After a moment, he returned with a dusty stack of books and immediately caught Hongjoong’s attention. “What do you have there, San?” He asked curiously, pausing in the midst of cleaning the next desk for Jongho to disinfect.

“Old photo albums,” San responded, proceeding to open one and flip through a few weathered pages. “Some of these photos date back to the Illusion Post’s founding.”

That fact piqued Yunho and Jongho’s interest as they quickly dropped their tasks and settled nearby San. They each took an album, leafing through the pages and absorbing the Post’s rich history.

“Do you think Yeosang’s in one of these?” Yunho suddenly questioned, gently lifting the cover of Jongho’s opened album to check the years imprinted on the front. Yeosang had been working at the Illusion Post longer than any of them because of his father, the postmaster before Hongjoong — the one who took him in after the spirit guardian’s disappearance. 

“It’s a possibility,” San observed the remaining photo albums, opening one and skimming the pages for a familiar pair of pointed fox ears. “Oh look! There he is.”

Yunho and Jongho crawled beside San, scanning the collage of photographs. Sure enough, there was a young Yeosang calmly sitting in a female kitsune's lap amongst the chaotic photos of their predecessors. 

The trio continued to flip through the album, spotting more and more pictures of the little kitsune. Their snickering and cooing was enough to draw Wooyoung and Hongjoong away from their work, to Yeosang’s growing embarrassment. 

“Look at this one.” Wooyoung motioned to a large group photo that looked vaguely familiar. It was slightly faded and showed the previous Illusion Post staff standing proudly in front of the office.

“Isn’t this hung along one of the back hallways?” Jongho recalled, everyone nodding in realization. Amongst the wide variety of creatures and spirits, they pointed out the woman who was in the first picture with Yeosang and the former postmaster.

And shrouded by staff were a young Hongjoong and Yeosang in newsboy attire, their satchels visibly packed with postage waiting to be delivered. 

“When do you think this was taken?” Yunho hummed, looking up at Hongjoong. The postmaster simply shook his head, jumping when he heard Yeosang speak closely.

“Almost half a year since Hongjoong’s arrival.” 

“You remember that long ago?” Hongjoong looked over to see that the kitsune had abandoned his filing organization to reminisce.

“Mhm. I remember most of these photos, actually.” Yeosang admitted, sitting down and looking over the page. He laughed softly at one photo in particular. “This one I definitely remember— I took it.”

It was a semi-blurry picture focused on two figures looking down at something together illuminated by weak candlelight. Yeosang must have shaken the camera in the midst of the photo being taken as the group couldn’t decipher the pair’s faces.

“Well, you certainly did a good job.” Wooyoung mumbled, the sarcasm dripping from his words earning a smack from San.

“Who are those two?” Yunho inquired curiously, squinting in hopes that the photograph would suddenly sharpen itself.

“My parents.”

Yeosang remembered this specific day fondly, as one of the staff members lent him their fancy camera to capture some memories in the Illusion Post. The young kitsune was overjoyed, zipping up and down stairs and hallways to take photos.

He barged into a dorm room to take one of the delivery team playing a friendly game of cards, he peeked over the front desk to capture one of a timid office worker restocking supplies and he dared to eavesdrop on a stony delivery member on the phone to immortalize their rare smile. 

By then, Yeosang had nearly exhausted his film and wanted to conclude his collection of photographs with one of his parents. He searched almost every room in the building except their room, which resulted in him bolting upstairs.

Yeosang tiptoed over to the room, giggling softly and gently pushing the door open to look inside. Straining through the camera’s lens, the kitsune could see his mother and father sitting on their bed and reading a book together. 

He quickly positioned himself to capture the intimate moment, only to falter at the last second.

“Yeosang? Honey, is that you?” 

His mother called out and startled Yeosang, the camera flashing in the midst of his fall. The door creaked open unceremoniously, allowing his surprised parents to watch their son land clumsily on his tail. They chuckled, his father closing the book and calling, “Are you alright?”

The kitsune nodded blankly, opening the camera and removing the white film from inside. He bit his lip, hoping the photo would develop clearly and not retain any blurriness.

“What were you doing taking photos of us?” His mother asked, watching as Yeosang stood up and dusted off his pants before skipping into the room. 

“I wanted to contribute to the photo album.” He responded, looking down at the book his father was holding. His parents had been looking through a photo album themselves, sparking Yeosang’s interest. “Can I look too?”

“Of course.” His mother hummed, relinquishing Yeosang of his camera and hoisting him into her lap. His father reopened the photo album and together, the small family took a journey through the past.

A young Illusion Post was shown throughout the grayscale photos, its once sparse interior having crowded significantly over the years. Spirits and creatures that Yeosang had never met stared back at him in familiar rooms, their passion for delivering postage still radiating through the old photographs.

“See that fox, Yeosang? Doesn’t he look familiar?” His mother pointed to a youthful kitsune happily pictured alongside a few of his coworkers. 

“Great great grandpa! He helped found the Post!” Yeosang immediately recognized the man, despite the fact they’d never met. 

“That’s right. And do you know why he helped found the Post?” His mother pressed on, smirking as she hadn’t taught Yeosang this fact yet.

“Because kitsunes are known to be messengers and he felt it was his duty to help deliver dangerous postage.” He responded proudly and left his mother in surprise, realization quickly dawning on her as Yeosang looked proudly at his father.

“You told him that?” She huffed, ears twitching in amusement as her husband nodded without hesitation.

“Amongst other things. You can’t keep him in the dark forever.” He went on, materializing a pair of round glasses out of thin air and placing them on Yeosang’s face. “He needs to learn these things. How else can he become a scholar of the Illusion Post?”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving him completely clueless. I was simply waiting for the right opportunity to arise.” She sighed, leaning over to see Yeosang’s eyes had enlarged because of the glasses' strong prescription. 

“Like now for instance?” The postmaster proposed.

“Like now for instance.” She repeated with a laugh, removing the glasses from Yeosang who blinked, clueless of his appearance.

“Well, you could always tell him about the photo albums.” His father went on, closing the book on his hand to show the cover to his wife. She nodded slowly, smiling and telling Yeosang to listen closely as she spoke.

And now, Yeosang was passing on that exact information from his mother to his members. 

“So...  _ wait _ ,” Wooyoung interrupted, pressing a hand to his temple. “You’re meaning to tell me that we forgot to implement a Post  _ tradition _ ?”

The members turned to Yeosang in disbelief, the kitsune quickly shaking his head to rid himself of their searing stares.

“No, we didn’t forget-”

“Then where’s our photo album?” Jongho tipped his head, sifting through the covers of albums past. 

“You said that when a new postmaster is appointed, a new photobook  _ should  _ begin.” San reminded, the kitsune wrapping his tail tightly around himself and biting the inside of his mouth.

“And one  _ did  _ begin-”

“Then where is it?” Yunho’s eyes grew wide with intrigue and quickly, Yeosang scrambled to his feet and rushed over to one of the desks. He unlocked one of the drawers and revealed a misplaced photo album that dated to current times.

Everyone watched Yeosang in anticipation as he trotted back to the group, their photobook safely secured in his arms. He gently placed it in the center of their circle and upon opening the cover, the members knew the album belonged to them right away. 

The kitsune continued to flip through the pages, the members hungrily taking in every image with immense confusion and fascination.

“Did you start this without us knowing?” Hongjoong questioned and his companion nodded.

“I actually wanted to give the album as a gift this past holiday season, but the book arrived after our festivities happened.” Yeosang explained, looking back at the handful photos he had collected during their time together. “I realize now this endeavour might’ve been selfish for me to hide.” 

“Maybe, but now we have this picture of San forever!” Wooyoung cried happily, holding the album up and blocking San from seeing himself asleep with ink drawings all over his face. The members laughed, Wooyoung rapidly turning the page to San’s dismay and grabbing Jongho’s interest. 

“This photo...” Jongho began, pointing to a picture of himself and Seonghwa standing outside of the Illusion Post during a brilliant sunset. “I didn’t know someone was watching us.”

Yeosang blushed embarrassedly, quietly justifying that he happened to be in the lobby with his camera when it occurred. The other members leaned in, Yunho asking, “What were you and Seonghwa talking about?”

The photograph had been taken a while after Jongho’s initial attack on the Illusion Post, motivated by the false belief that Hongjoong was the descendant of his and his lord’s killer. Though the members were quick to defend Joong and when their misunderstandings had been settled, Jongho suddenly requested to work at the Post.

They had a long discussion about his acceptance, taking all factors into account and making compromises along the way that included Jongho remaining bound by Wooyoung and San’s spell. And in the end, Jongho became a delivery boy under the collective training of Yunho, Mingi and Seonghwa.

The members were impressed with how quickly he learned the ropes, facing each work day with seasoned ease. Seonghwa had commended Jongho for expertly navigating a crowded neighborhood two weeks prior, Mingi thanked him for carrying their route’s influx in postage last week and a few days ago, he and Yunho finished their route with precious daylight to spare.

Jongho acted like he’d delivered mail his whole life, yet claimed he had never placed a letter in a mailbox until recently. It baffled the members why he decided to work at the Illusion Post with no experience then.

Perhaps Jongho felt guilty about wrongly accusing Hongjoong and thought that by working as a delivery boy, he would redeem himself. Or Hongjoong would forgive him (which he already did.)

Jongho’s exact reasoning remained a mystery until one day, when a knock came at his bedroom door.

It couldn’t have been Mingi, since he and Yunho were still running their routes— even then, Mingi usually wasn’t one to politely knock. 

With his face in a book, Jongho called absentmindedly, “Come in.”

The door creaked open to reveal Seonghwa, his delivery partner for the day. His swords were securely strapped to his back and in his hands, he held two glass soda bottles.

“Care to join me for a drink outside?” He offered, shaking the bottles enticingly and pulling Jongho out of his book. The boy stared blankly at him, nodding after a moment and beginning to descend from the top bunk.

Hitting the floor, Jongho snatched one of the soda bottles from Seonghwa’s grasp. “What’s the occasion?” He prompted, walking towards the stairs and restricting himself from opening it.

“Do I need a reason to share a drink with my coworker?” Seonghwa hummed, following after Jongho as they descended the stairs in rapid succession. They strode through the hallways and into the lobby, passing the noisy sorting room on the way.

“No, but you’re usually not one to do these things.” Jongho responded, holding the door open for Seonghwa and waiting for him to exit before following. 

The eldest nodded, carefully leaning against the front of the Illusion Post because of his swords. “That’s true, but I wanted to today,” he popped the cap as Jongho slid in beside him. “Besides, you should be glad it’s me rather than Wooyoung.”

Jongho chuckled, removing his cap and raising his soda. 

“To an earful less of complaints.”

Seonghwa laughed and cheered to Jongho’s toast, the pair proceeding to take a swig of their drinks. 

“But actually,” Seonghwa wiped his mouth. “There is a reason I wanted you to join me.”

Jongho stared at him expectantly, gesturing with his bottle to continue.

“You’re not in trouble or anything. It’s just that I’m a little confused, is all.” Hwa quickly clarified before going on. “Why did you want to work at the Post right after coming off the heels of attacking it?” 

The question everyone had been secretly asking.

Jongho let out a breathy sigh, taking another sip of soda. “I had my reasons. Mainly because I felt bad about the trouble I caused— that, and I wanted to take a break.”

“A break from what?”

“Revenge.” Jongho bluntly stated, a tight grin turning his lips. “You wouldn’t think exacting revenge is tiring work but it is. I’ve been chasing after some warrior whose name I don’t even know and blindly following strangers' words for so long… I forgot what this felt like.”

Seonghwa looked upward as Jongho motioned outward, letting out a breath of awe. The sun was beginning to set on another successful day, the golden light illuminating and refracting off of city windows. 

“The peace and quiet of not having anything to worry about.” He took a breath as a cool breeze ran by. “Except for delivering mail, that is.”

(It was also at this exact moment Yeosang entered the lobby in search of a spare quill, photographing the pair outside in the process.)

“I know what you mean.” Seonghwa hummed, slowly raising his bottle. “That’s why I left home.”

“Parents with high expectations?” Jongho took a wild guess, Hwa nodding as he drank more soda.

“Extremely high expectations. You wouldn’t know half of it.” He sighed contently.

“Care to elaborate then?”

Seonghwa hesitated. “Only if you’re not going to freak out.”

Jongho nodded earnestly and he continued. “My ancestors are the founders of tachi-kai, a powerful clan that specializes in iaido. My parents currently oversee all of the gang’s operations and as their son, they expect me to inherit their empire in the near future. Yet here I am, a delivery boy instead of a gangster.”

“Did they exile you?” Jongho pressed, his face long in shock.

“No, I chose to leave. My parents… they aren’t the kindest people.”

Seonghwa took another sip of soda to clear his throat, Jongho nodding in understanding.

“Do you miss your life in tachi-kai?” He continued to prod.

“No. But it still clings onto me whether I like it or not.” Seonghwa pointed to the two tachi swords attached to his back, Jongho jumping as the blades began to shake in their scabbards. An amused smile painted Hwa’s lips as he commanded the swords to stop shaking and they did.

“Are they…?” Jongho began, trailing off as fascination overtook him.

“Sentient? Yes.” Hwa finished. “They’re a family heirloom passed down through generations of tachi-kai heirs.”

“That’s incredible.” The boy breathed, attempting to touch the swords only for Seonghwa to swat his hand away.

“Be careful. They don’t take kindly to other people handling them.” 

Jongho pouted, taking another sip of his soda as Hwa snickered. They continued to talk until their bottles ran dry and upon walking away from the conversation, Jongho and Seonghwa felt like they understood the other a little bit more.

As if mentioning his name over and over magically summoned him, Seonghwa suddenly appeared in the sorting room doorway with Mingi standing behind him.

“Alright, the laundry’s finished! Now let’s see-” His expression dropped at the half put together workspace and the inapt storytime circle created.

Everyone immediately shrunk under the eldest’s gaze as his jaw snapped shut, eyes becoming hardened as he grumbled, “Get back to work.”

Knowing well what would happen next if they didn’t move, the boys raced to disassemble their circle with San tucking the photo albums back into the cabinet. 

Seonghwa let out an exhausted sigh, pinching the creases in between his eyebrows as he added, “I also need someone to run an errand for me.”

“I’ll do it!” Hongjoong instantly offered, the other members groaning as he zipped across the sorting room to meet his roommate. Mingi took this opportunity to step inside and shuffle towards Yunho, who was currently balancing himself on a step ladder.

“Wait! Hongjoong hyung can’t go anywhere without me!” Yeosang called after, trotting to stand beside Joong and secretly thanking his bodyguard role for sparing him from Seonghwa’s wrath.

“What do you need us to get?” Hongjoong inquired, holding out his hands as Hwa placed a small folded piece of paper in his palms. He opened it, Yeosang looking over his shoulder to read its contents.

Hongjoong frowned at the items on the list, including colored thread and extra laundry detergent. “I thought you said the laundry was done?”

“It is, but Mingi had some trouble with his share.” Seonghwa told them, lowering his voice.

“Did his fire act up again?” Yeosang whispered and Seonghwa drew a breath.

“Let’s just say we might have to buy Yunho a new pair of pants, if I can’t salvage the old ones.” The trio looked towards the pair of delivery boys, Yunho having hopped down from his perch to comfort a very upset looking Mingi. 

Hwa sighed with a small grin. “You two should head out now. I’ll take over the cleaning from here.”

The pair thanked Seonghwa as he brushed past them, picking up the work he previously abandoned. Then, Hongjoong and Yeosang quickly readied themselves for a swift departure. 

The last time Hongjoong had really been out was his trip with Yeosang, and all he had returned with was two letters, a cactus, and half a dozen cans of beans.

This trip promised to be more productive. 

The shop district was located only a few streets away from the post office, so walking was a perfectly sensible way to get there. 

Clouds were moving in to cover the sunny blue sky, so they hurried their pace and sheltered themselves under the awnings that bridged alleyways and avenues with their colorful cloth. Only sparse raindrops descended on them while they searched the stores for their supplies, nothing worrying although it put a necessary spring in their step. 

Yeosang carried the money with him and offered to pay for the items himself, claiming he owed Seonghwa for buying him some folders last week. Hongjoong allowed it, more occupied with exploring the market and its many sights and smells than searching for the items anyway.

While Yeosang was struggling to identify Seonghwa’s preferred detergent brand Hongjoong was perusing the jewelry booth, until a thought struck him just as a bolt of lightning streaked in the sky.

Now was the perfect chance, Yeosang was distracted, the others wouldn’t come looking for him since he was presumed to be on an errand, the address was in his pocket…

If only the sky didn’t look like it was going to open up and dump rain on him.

“Excuse me?” He interrupted the advertising ramblings of the jewelry seller, an old spirit with antlers that tangled in the necklaces and thin chains hanging from the roof of the stall. “Would you happen to know how to get here?”

Hongjoong showed her the return address on the letter he had brought with him. She frowned at it, untangling her antlers with one hand and tapping at the paper with a long nail on the other.

“I’ll draw a map, but… it’s very far. Bad luck. You ought to buy one of our good luck charms.”

With the seasoned swiftness of a born trader, she snatched a gold necklace with a coin-like pendant from the corner of the shop Hongjoong hadn’t visited yet.

He suppressed a sigh, steeling himself for another marketing spiel. “See, here is the symbol for love, deeply engraved to give you success in all your romantic endeavours, as well as a strong thread woven with spells to bless you financially, and spells to keep you from harm--”

“Thank you for the offer, but I think I’d just like the map please,” Hongjoong asked, clearing his throat. She either didn’t hear him or pretended she didn’t and went on, “If you’d prefer a bead chain, we have specially made beads from the blessed wood of--”

“Just the map, please!” he repeated through a strained smile. She scowled at him and snatched the envelope, flipping it over and summoning a quill to draw with.

The end result was a long, borderline tortuous, route scrawled over the grooves and flaps of the envelope hastily and slapped back into Hongjoong’s hands.

“You’re sure this is the fastest way?” He looked at her skeptically and backed away slowly as she yanked her antlers free of yet another string of beads and shooed him off. “Thank you,” He shot over his shoulder, memorizing the first few turns and placing the paper under his clothing for safekeeping from the rain that was picking up speed.

Hongjoong was drenched through by the time he arrived at the tiny hole in the wall apartment and squinted through dripping hair at the address. 

He took a steeling breath and hit the doorbell. Immediately an eye peered at him through the peephole and, deeming his awkward smile harmless enough, disappeared from the little glass orb and moved away. The sound of half a dozen locks being undone sounded from the other side and the door cracked open.

“State your business,” barked a gruff voice and Hongjoong held the envelope up to the crack.

“Is this you? Mirae…?”

The woman’s eyes widened and she pulled him into the entryway. 

He barely had time to register the fact that rain was finally not falling on his head anymore before she was grilling him with questions. “Who are you? How came you by this?” 

“I-” Hongjoong paused to sneeze and the spirit finally released him. For the first time, he could take a good look at her. She seemed to be around his father’s age, or the age he assumed his father’s body was at, but her hair was streaked with the occasional strand of grey, and her eyes were ringed with fatigue. Her clothing was simple and practical, and even her dwelling was small and sparsely furnished. Hongjoong wondered in passing if she was a hermitess.

“I found it. At my father’s old place,” he admitted when her stare continued.

“You’re Hongjoong?” She gasped, taking a near imperceptible step back. He didn’t remember meeting her before but he nodded anyway. 

The news was apparently so shocking to her that she needed to take a seat, leading him into a sitting room and motioning for him to sit as well.

“I thought you might come one day,” she muttered after taking a deep breath. “What is it you want?”

Hongjoong was enraptured by the erratically decorated and excessively cluttered interior of the room, and only when her eyes had been on him curiously for a moment did he remember why he had come.

“I want you to tell me about my father. You knew him, didn’t you? You’re the person he was always writing to. The reason I dropped letters off at the post office every other day.”

“We met as children,” Mirae admitted softly, hands curling around a cup of tea Hongjoong didn’t remember seeing before. “He got back into contact with me when we had grown. We kept in touch because he wanted my help.”

“Your help?” Hongjoong asked, gripping the envelope like his life depended on it. “With what?”

“Don’t dredge up the past!” Mirae snapped suddenly, standing and paying her tea no mind as it spilled all over the floor. Her burst of anger was followed by a sad shake of the head and she waved her hand over her cup, magically refilling it herself. “Just go home, I beg you.”

“So you won’t tell me anything?” Hongjoong scoffed. The rain pattering on the roof became louder and the sound of it drummed into him. “Anything  _ at all?  _ What was it all for then? The letters, the package, father stealing me and then abandoning me— my entire  _ life _ , Mirae— why? Why are these things happening?”

“See for yourself, if you must,” She sighed and walked into an adjoining room, beckoning him to follow her. 

If he thought the previous space was messy, this room was pure chaos. Every inch of every surface was covered in paper of various kinds, each page splattered with art of various mediums.

“What is this?” He breathed, reaching out to the closest painting, trying and failing to make sense of the images.

“Possible futures,” she answered him bitterly, crossing her arms as if to guard herself from her own handiwork. “I’m a mage, your father asked me to look ahead and see the fruit of his endeavours.”

“This is what they refer to as the Prophecy?” Hongjoong’s eyes widened as he approached the particularly dark pictures in the center of the room. Each painting was gloomy and represented images of death, damage, and destruction— all with a shrouded figure at the center.

“Yes,” she responded, looking at him sadly. “Hundreds of casts into the future, and not one that prevents this travesty.”

“Well, you’re not infallible,” he chuckled, sobering when Mirae shot him a dirty look. He shrugged in his defense. “You didn’t see me coming today, did you?”

She ignored his challenge and waved him over to a corner of the room. “This is what you seek. Prophecies that have come true, concerning your father.”

Mirae reached out to the nearest piece, rubbing what looked like colourful grains of salt into the border and Hongjoong watched as the picture magically came alive in front of him.

“I can’t hold it back anymore, Mirae. Are you sure a stronger tonic can’t be created?”

It was his father, inked in shades of black and grey like the cloak he always wore. It reminded Hongjoong of the chaos-bringer in the Prophecy predictions and made his stomach turn.

“No, I’ve given you all I have,” Mirae responded, looking as exasperated in the memory as she did in the present. She was painted in earthy browns and greens, with tones of gold creating an atmosphere that withered to a more sinister orange as they continued to argue. “If it’s not working anymore it means the darkness has outgrown it.”

“You told me it would work,” Hongjoong’s father moaned, stumbling and falling to his hands and knees. Never in their time together had Hongjoong seen him so distressed. “This is killing me, Mirae.”

“I told you it  _ could _ work,” Mirae amended, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “Now it’s just another failed possibility.”

Hongjoong leaned back and looked at the Mirae standing before him. She avoided his gaze and pointed to another picture. It was farther away and crudely drawn, as if she had created it against her will.

The sketched lines came into motion at her command and Hongjoong swallowed his fears and watched it.

“I want you to try again,” his father was insisting, holding Mirae by the arms tightly. “I want to know if there’s any way I can save him without leaving him.”

“There is none!” Mirae screamed, pulling away. “Get out, I’m begging you,” she sobbed desperately. “Leave and never return. I can’t do this anymore.”

There was a pause and Hongjoong held his breath as emotions made their way across his father's face. “What aren’t you telling me?” He whispered. 

“It’s your life or his.”

Hongjoong had to strain his ears to even catch it. His father seemed to have heard her confession clearly, because he spun on his heel and left the scene, looking determined. 

Memory-Mirae ran out after him, begging him not to go through with it, and that was the moment Hongjoong knew.

His father was dead.

Mirae nodded solemnly when he asked for confirmation and guided him to a chair, shoving a conjured cup of tea into his hand. “It must have been in the late summer or fall of last year,” she was saying. “One day I searched for his presence and… I couldn’t feel him anymore.” 

Hongjoong reminded himself that he shouldn’t care. The spirit was a criminal, he had stolen him from his birth parents, and then sent him away like trash to be disposed of.

But if it was true that he had been the Prophesied One and an evil power was killing him and he had run away for Hongjoong’s own safety… then he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“What’s in this?” He asked tiredly, peering into the dark drink he had been given. 

Mirae didn’t answer, looking lost in thought as she paced the room. 

“What were you two looking for? Does it have anything to do with the package he left me?” Hongjoong asked softly, taking a sip and grimacing at the taste. He placed the still mostly full cup on the table next to him.

“Don’t dredge up the past!” She snapped, but with much less bite than the previous time. “It was a fool’s search. His path was always set. As is mine. As is yours, all of you.”

“But if you cast that box away and never speak of it again, you may have a chance,” she hummed, stopping and facing him. “You may be able to change your fate.”

Hongjoong stood and prepared to leave. The rain was still heavy and cold, but he had no money to call a cab or pay for the train, and the sooner that package was destroyed, the better.

“Leave now,” she repeated the words from her memory and opened the door for him. The rain fell like a sheet on the doorstep and Hongjoong secured the envelope again.

“And never return, I know.”

She watched him go with dark eyes and closed the door firmly.

She had lied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 1 year anniversary to Wave era !!
> 
> Thanks for your patience while we worked on this, it was a fun chapter with lots of backstory tidbits :) How is the mystery coming together for you? Let us know in the comments and stay tuned for more <3


	6. The Wilting Cactus Plant

Hongjoong remembered flashes of his long walk returning home through the thunderstorm that night.

Pressing onward through the rain and winds. Lamplight from the office lifting his spirits. Yeosang waiting up for him with a scolding ready on his tongue. The way that scolding died when he saw Hongjoong’s waterlogged state and took pity on him. Collapsing in bed and surrendering to dreamless sleep while the tumultuous weather thundered on outside.

Then suddenly waking to stumble into the bathroom and heave into the toilet.

The noise was enough that it attracted attention, and Seonghwa’s scrunched up face and messy hair appeared in the doorway right on cue.

“What’s going on?” He whined, rubbing his eyes to make them adjust. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Hongjoong assured him, wiping his mouth and sitting back against the wall. “Just a bit sick.”

Seonghwa pressed the back of his hand to Hongjoong’s forehead and hummed in response. “You have a fever. Think you came down with something out there?”

Hongjoong shrugged and got to his feet, swaying a bit but managing to get himself into bed with some help. “What time is it?” He asked quietly when Seonghwa followed him.

Seonghwa glanced at his bedside clock and groaned. “Just before dawn. We’ll be opening soon.”

“Oh?” Hongjoong sat up again, pushing the blankets off and struggling to get back out of bed. “I should be getting up then...”

“No, go ahead and sleep in,” Seonghwa insisted, pushing him back and tucking him in. “We can handle opening just fine.”

“What’s going on in here?” Yeosang stood in the doorway, stifling a yawn. Almost like talk of opening the post office had summoned him.

“You and your fox ears,” Hongjoong chuckled dryly, already falling asleep.

Seonghwa hurried over to Yeosang and explained the situation, lowering his voice so as not to wake any of the others in their cramped hallway of bedrooms. 

Yeosang paled at the news. “A fever?”

“Well, what did you expect, leaving him out there in the cold rain all evening?” Seonghwa suddenly snapped.

“Easy there, Seonghwa,” Yeosang held his hands up in surrender and tried to calm him. “He ran away from me in the market, I did the best I could to find him. Let’s not start playing the blame game.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Seonghwa sighed and ran his hands down his face in exhaustion. “This is just stressful. We open in an hour and everyone will have to be reassigned and it’s just... very bad timing.”

“Go on, I’ll be fine,” Hongjoong whispered from his bed. Apparently he’d heard them anyway. “Yeosang knows what to do.”

Yeosang gave him a mock salute and roused the rest of the disgruntled members to readjust everyone’s delivery bag loads.

“I ought to stay and make sure he’s doing fine,” Seonghwa sighed, stirring some pancake batter while the rest of the group sat sleepy-eyed at the table.

“Who’s going to take your delivery route then, Hwa?” San asks, pouring some orange juice but missing the cup completely. “Hey, can someone turn a light on? I can’t see what I’m doing.”

Yunho skipped over to the light switch and flipped it, but nothing happened. He let out a confused noise and tried again twice before realising. “The power’s out! Must have happened in the storm.”

Seonghwa went to turn on the stove and found it wasn’t working either. He sighed and fetched a match to light the burner and finish his pancakes while the other members all whined about having to work in the dark.

“We can’t let the customers in when it’s like this,” Yeosang insisted. 

“Yeosang, the coffee machine!” Wooyoung gasped, getting to his feet in panic. “We can’t make coffee if it won’t turn on!”

“The burners are working fine,” Jongho pointed out. “Just make it over the stove.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung sat back down in his chair. He hadn’t considered that.

“But the refrigerator isn’t working,” Yeosang points out. “We need to get the power back soon if we want any of our food to stay cold.”

“The meat!” San screeched, pulling open the refrigerator door and checking that all the food was okay.

“No, no, no, keep the door shut!” Yunho gasped and pulled him back. “You’ll let the cold air escape.”

“Alright everyone, sit down,” Seonghwa’s voice broke through the chaos and directed the members’ attention to him. He had laid the table and prepared plates for all of them and stood there pinching the bridge of his nose and waiting for them to calm down. “Just eat your breakfast. Mingi, you know where the breaker is?”

Mingi nodded, mouth already full of bacon. 

“Would you mind going and trying to fix the problem?”

Mingi nodded hesitantly and grabbed his plate, hurrying out the door.

Seonghwa picked an uneaten plate up off the table and informed the others he was bringing it to Hongjoong.

He stopped in the lobby and glanced at the clock again as the chatter of customers was already filling the street. Time was ticking away on them.

“Here, have some breakfast,” Seonghwa sighed and dropped the plate into Hongjoong’s lap. He grimaced at it and gently nudged it away. 

“No thanks, I’m not hungry.” 

Seonghwa was already mid-rant and not paying attention to him, so Hongjoong let him continue. “Unfortunately, just to add to our mountain of problems, the power went out last night due to the storm. I sent Mingi to check on it and—”

“We’ll have to call an electrician or someone because I don’t know what I’m doing,” Mingi interrupted, sticking his head in the doorway and pouting at Seonghwa.

“You can’t use your magic to fix it?”

“I don’t have lightning power, I have fire power,” Mingi insisted. “I can maybe light some candles for you, but the circuit breaker is—”

Hongjoong broke into a coughing fit and cut him off, but just as he finished, all the lights switched back on with a faint hum.

“Oh... okay, well, never mind,” Mingi offered a curt nod and stuck his head back out, closing the door behind him.

Yells of joy echoed through the building before being muffled by the closing door.

“Well that’s a relief,” Seonghwa sighed, retrieving the untouched plate and preparing to head back downstairs. “I’d better get back down there. A line is already forming outside. Must be ‘national send your friend a letter day’ or something.”

Hongjoong smiled and watched him go, grumbling quietly the whole way.

He had been just about to drift back to sleep when Seonghwa came in, but now he was back at square one.

The little cactus plant on the windowsill was looking brown and lifeless as he stared at it waiting for his eyes to get droopy.

The more he looked at it, the sadder he felt. That cactus survived years alone and untended in an abandoned apartment. Why was it dying now?

With a grunt of effort, Hongjoong hauled himself out of bed and picked the plant up off the windowsill. He needed to take care of it before it died.

The doors were open and the office was alive when he struggled down the stairs with the little pot in hand. None of the customers bothered him as he cut in line and it was San who was at the desk sending a package away into the sorting room.

“How may I help you sir— oh, Hongjoong! What is it, are you alright?” San was flustered by the postmaster’s appearance on the other side of the desk but Hongjoong simply smiled weakly and scratched the back of his neck.

“Can... can I get some water?”

“Oh, yeah of course!”

San zipped away and returned quickly with a glass that he gently placed in Hongjoong’s hand. “Drink up!”

“Not for me, for the plant,” Hongjoong blushed at the confession.

“Oh, well is there anything I can get you?” San asked, tilting his head “Like, a massage or a bubble bath or something?”

“Here, come around the desk,” Seonghwa interrupted, appearing over San’s shoulder and beckoning Hongjoong. “San, focus on taking customers.”

“Why are you watering your plant?” Seonghwa scolded when Hongjoong was in whispering distance. “You should be in bed.”

“What are _you_ still doing here, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong shot back. “You should be on your delivery run by now.”

“I was thinking about sending Wooyoung instead, and asking him to look for medicine while he was at it so I can help you get better,” Seonghwa admitted. “Kill two birds with one stone and all that.”

Hongjoong winced at the imagery and then frowned. “Remember what happened last time we sent Wooyoung and San on a delivery run...?”

“But that was different,” San argued, weighing someone's boxes and prattling to them just the same. “Gang spirits were waiting for us. I bound the packages in his load myself. Some of them are from Mrs. Lee. You remember Mrs. Lee? The water spirit with the—”

“Magical robes, I remember,” Hongjoong finished for him. 

San lowered his voice but kept chattering. “By the way, she wants us to transfer some spears. Now, I checked, and there’s nothing in the handbook against sharp objects but we’ll have to remove the edges and package them separately which is an additional fee.”

“San, focus!” Seonghwa hissed as the man at the counter started to get impatient.

“Get Yeosang to help you,” Hongjoong suddenly said, feeling nauseous again. He snatched the glass of water and his little cactus with a small muttered “thanks” and hurried into the bathroom.

Another round of heaves later, he managed to stand and splash some water onto his face, gripping the sink and trying not to fall over.

“What is going on with me?” He whispered to himself.

A sudden twinge of pain on his arm made Hongjoong inhale sharply and pull up his sleeve.

There in the mirror he could see some kind of black mark, like an ink smudge on his skin.

“Have I been... marked?”

He rubbed at it but it wouldn’t go away, and touching the dot only made his heart beat faster. It was like electricity.

Hongjoong’s other hand, the one clinging to the sink, suddenly gave out, bringing him crashing to the floor.

Jongho happened to be walking past the bathroom with a stack of dirty dishes, and dropped the load in his arms at the sound of someone collapsing.

When he wrenched open the door, there was Hongjoong, passed out on the floor. 

“You shouldn’t have gotten out of bed,” the spirit sighed before hauling him up by his arms and dragging him out into the hall, just barely in view of the lobby.

A bright haired young sprite slowly drifted to the ground and blinked at them with his mouth agape.

“Everything’s fine!” Jongho reassured with a nervous laugh. “Nothing to see here.”

His statement had the adverse effect of gaining attention from the rest of the customer service line and as Seonghwa hurried to help him pull Hongjoong up the stairs he hoped there weren’t any karura hybrids in the lobby watching all this. The last thing they needed was more news coverage after the kaminari-gumi attack.

Yeosang snapped at San to engage the customers and followed the pair up the stairs after scooping up the cactus plant and water glass.

Hongjoong came to only a moment after he was placed back in bed.

“Hey, I don’t think...” he paused as a shudder ran through him. “I don’t think this is your average fever.”

“What could’ve caused this then?” Yeosang sighed, partially in relief and partially in concern. “Did you have contact with anyone who was sick?”

“I don’t think so...”

“You don’t have any infected injuries?” Jongho chimed in.

“No, not that I remember.”

“Did you eat or drink anything that didn’t agree with you lately?” Seonghwa suggested.

“A few sips of tea.”

“A few sips of tea,” Seonghwa repeated, pacing the room. “You didn’t make it yourself?”

Hongjoong shook his head lethargically.

“Then is there any way it might’ve been laced with poison?”

“Poison? Why would she kill me?” His speech was slurred together and even if it had been crisp, they had no idea who he was talking about. “I thought she was my friend...”

“Why would who kill you? Did someone do this to you Hongjoong? Jongho, please ring the police.”

Jongho rushed out to get to the telephone while the others tried anxiously to get information out of Hongjoong.

“Mirae, the spirit I visited, the one Father wrote to...” Hongjoong mumbled eventually, fidgeting in his sheets. His eyes were far away and clouded over, like he thought he was somewhere else entirely, perhaps back in the scene he was remembering. “She made sumi-e, paintings that moved.”

It sounded to Seonghwa like delirious ramblings, but Yeosang had gone quiet with thought, so he turned to him. “You know who he’s talking about?”

“Perhaps,” Yeosang answered. “He must have visited one of his father’s old friends, the one who lived at an address we found in his apartment. It sounds like she had power similar to the prophetesses of legend, the ability to display the images through sumi-e illustrations.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why she tried to kill him,” Seonghwa mused, just when Jongho reappeared in the doorway.

“The police are useless. They can’t even send over a toxicology expert, told us to go to the hospital if we were overly concerned.”

“No, no, the bills...” Hongjoong mumbled, grabbing Seonghwa’s arm before he even thought about calling an ambulance.

“We need Wooyoung and San,” Seonghwa concluded. “He hasn’t left already, has he?” Suddenly, he was dreading a repeat of the rune situation back in the winter. A member in need and the only people who could help recently sent miles away.

“I think he’s still downstairs,” Jongho chirped. “I’ll go fetch them!”

“We’re leaving Mingi and Yunho at the desk then?” Yeosang asked, wincing. The last time they tried that, the magic book came back missing a couple of pages.

“It won’t be for too long,” Seonghwa reassured him, though mostly reassuring himself.

When San and Wooyoung poked their heads in, the little group convened in the corner of the room so as not to disturb Hongjoong.

“It’s killing him from the inside out, whatever it is,” Seonghwa coughed awkwardly. “Is there any way you can, I don’t know, bind his organs back together?

San and Wooyoung wore a similar expression, wincing in concern and apology at the same time. Seonghwa tried something else.

“Or maybe there’s a special healing tea we can make or a spell we can cast. Let’s just try everything.”

But no matter what they did, nothing seemed to work and as the morning wore on, Hongjoong’s condition only worsened.

When Wooyoung and the rest of the delivery team eventually departed the post office, the usual office worker was riddled with anxiety. Not only was he tasked with finishing Seonghwa’s route in a timely manner, but he also had to obtain an antidote for Hongjoong. 

Their last hope before having to visit the hospital. 

Poison antidotes weren’t something one could easily purchase in the shop district, as their distribution was strictly regulated. But that didn’t stop people from making their own, meaning they weren’t completely unobtainable by the general public — one just had to know where to look. 

“Let’s meet back here by sundown at the latest, okay?” Yunho broke through Wooyoung’s worrying thoughts, the boy hardly registering that they were standing on the corner of Main Street now. He nodded dazedly, glancing down at his map and hearing Yunho jog away before proceeding to his route.

Wooyoung cautiously moved down every street, double checking that packages and letters he was leaving were correctly delivered. And every time a signature needed to be collected, he asked them if they knew of an underground medicine store nearby.

Halfway through his run, Wooyoung began losing hope as the amount of packages requiring signatures dwindled. Coming up to the next house, he rang the doorbell with an exhausted sigh and readied the paperwork. How the delivery team could quickly finish their routes still baffled Wooyoung to this day.

An old ghastly couple answered the door, the woman looking at the package excitedly as her haggard husband knowingly took the pen and signed the paper. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, do you know of any medicine stores nearby? One that could possibly carry poison antidotes?” Wooyoung inquired as he handed the package to the woman and received the document in return. The old man raised a crooked eyebrow, not paying attention to his wife who eagerly tore the package open. 

He hobbled forward and shooed Wooyoung away with a bony hand, pointing down the street shortly afterwards. “If you follow this road for two more blocks and take a right down an alleyway, you’ll find a small shop that belongs to a fellow named Kwan. But be careful, he doesn’t take kindly to strangers.”

Before Wooyoung could ask him another question or even thank him, the old man slammed the door shut.

He flinched at the abrupt noise, taking it as a sign to continue on his route, making deliveries where needed and eventually arriving at the aforementioned alleyway. Yet it could hardly be classified as an alleyway, the stained walls sandwiching Wooyoung’s shoulders and causing him to struggle over garbage bags and suspiciously colored puddles.

Breaking out on the other side, Wooyoung looked around the dingy street and began taking in deep breaths of fresh air. Immediately, he became fixated on a rundown storefront with a tattered awning and front window plastered with talismans that wished good health and safety. 

And somehow, he managed to read an almost unintelligible sign advertising medicine. 

“This must be the place…” Wooyoung mumbled, hesitantly ducking under the awning and entering the shop. A glass wind chime rang at his entrance, another talisman brushing his head and frightening the boy before he managed to take in the store’s atmosphere.

It was a long room with shelves that swallowed nearly every wall and a counter that unevenly split the limited space. Mysterious boxes and bottles containing who knows what cluttered the shelves, a shiver running down Wooyoung’s spine when a jar of eyeballs met his gaze from across the room. 

“Hello? Is anyone back there?” Wooyoung called, hurrying to the empty counter and turning away from the jar with a shudder. Sure, he dealt with all sorts of weird and creepy items at the Post, but that never meant he had gotten used to them.

After a moment, the ground began to tremble under Wooyoung, who dryly gulped when a bruting figure emerged from the backroom. Wooyoung recognized the creature to be an oni, his long unruly hair pulled back into a low ponytail and a pair of horns poking out from his wrinkled forehead. He wore a baggy, traditionally patterned outfit and heavy strands of beaded jewelry that Wooyoung couldn’t imagine wearing without collapsing from the weight.

“Get out.” The oni, who Wooyoung could only assume to be Kwan, suddenly thundered. “I told you for the millionth time that I’m not giving your clan anymore tonics, antidotes — medicine of any sorts until you pay me back.” His lips curled into a snarl, further bearing the sharp teeth sticking out of his mouth.

“Excuse me?” Wooyoung questioned obliviously, shrinking under the oni’s menacing scowl.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you were sent by the neighboring clan. You’re not fooling anyone, spirit.” Kwan spat with a roll of his yellowed eyes. 

“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not apart of any clan-”

“That’s what they all say! Now, unless you’re here to pay what you owe me, I suggest you leave.” He slammed a clawed hand on the counter, daring to lean over and blowing an irritated puff of air uncomfortably close to Wooyoung’s face.

“But I’m not associated with any sort of clan! See!” Wooyoung squeaked, frantically rolling up his shirt sleeve as he stumbled backwards, showing Kwan his unmarked arm. “I’m just an ordinary customer.” 

Kwan studied the clean skin and after a moment, let out a low hum, gazing at Wooyoung suspiciously. “Then why are you here?” He fired.

“To buy some medicine. An old man told me that you might have poison antidotes, and my friend really needs one.” Wooyoung explained as Kwan grumbled, contemplating his circumstances before shuffling around the counter. 

“Do you know what kind of poison they took?” He growled unenthusiastically, scanning the shore’s extensive shelves and shooting a pointed glare at the curious jar of eyeballs in the process. 

“Not exactly, but he drank it in a cup of tea.” Wooyoung replied keenly as Kwan began to pull a few boxes and bottles from the shelves. He swerved back around the counter and disappeared into the backroom, emerging minutes later empty handed.

“The antidote should be ready soon.” Kwan gave Wooyoung a curt nod, not even bothering to apologize for his unjustified outlash earlier as he rambled on. “It’s been a while since we last made a poison antidote. Your friend must be boneheaded for drinking poison.” 

“Hey, Hongjoong isn’t _that_ boneheaded. He must have some brains or else our post office would fall apart.” Wooyoung defended the postmaster, folding his arms over the counter dejectedly. A beat of silence. 

“...Hongjoong, you say? I haven’t heard that name in ages.”

Wooyoung nodded without giving the sentence much thought, but when his mind fully processed it, he perked up from his relaxed position. 

“Do you know Hongjoong?” But Wooyoung hadn't seen him visit the Illusion Post before, let alone feel his presence through the floor. “Are you an old friend of his?”

“Not exactly. We’ve never met but I know a lot about him.” Kwan admitted with a sigh, folding his clawed hands. 

Wooyoung silently began to wonder if this was the same enraged oni that accused him of being a gangster a few minutes ago. His frightening demeanor had changed into one of solemness at the mention of Hongjoong.

“Why’s that?” Wooyoung pressed on curiously.

“His father used to frequent my shop often, and when he did, he’d always talk about his son. We were good friends actually.” Wooyoung’s heart skipped a beat, knowing well that the topic of Hongjoong’s father was a sensitive one.

“Papa! The antidote is ready!” 

A frail voice fluttered from the backroom, Kwan excusing himself as he went to check on the antidote. Wooyoung nodded slowly, slumping back over the counter as he realized the woman that Hongjoong had visited last night wasn’t the only withstanding connection his father had left behind. 

Kwan soon reappeared from the backroom with a sizable vial in his large hands, sliding it into Wooyoung’s.

“Make sure Hongjoong takes this before he goes to sleep tonight. The sooner he drinks it, the less damage the poison will leave.” Kwan ordered as Wooyoung turned the vial over, noticing the same instructions were written on a tag tied around the bottleneck.

“How much do I owe you?” Wooyoung began, stowing the vial and procuring a hefty bundle of cash Seonghwa and Yeosang had secretly given him. They didn’t want Hongjoong to see that they were potentially giving him more than what a hospital visit would cost.

“You don’t have to pay me anything.” Kwan replied, causing Wooyoung to look up at him in shock. “The favors I asked of Hongjoong’s father pays for it.”

Wooyoung wanted to protest, but the oni’s insistent glare told him otherwise. “Thank you, Kwan.” He smiled, pocketing the cash and bowing to the oni, who simply shook his head. 

“If you have anyone to thank, it should be Yuna.” He clarified. 

“Yuna?” Wooyoung tipped his head. 

“My daughter and apprentice. She brewed the antidote for you.” The frail voice from before that announced the medicine’s completion. “Yuna, you can come out now.”

A young oni suddenly peeked out from the backroom’s door frame, her round gaze locked on Wooyoung. Yuna appeared very different from her father, with short silky hair, stubby horns and plain form-fitting clothes.

Kwan gestured Yuna over, Wooyoung bowing again once she arrived. “Thank you so much, Yuna.” He rephrased as Yuna blushed and nodded with a flustered hum. 

Just as Wooyoung was straightening himself, Yuna hastily placed something on the counter before retreating to the backroom. Wooyoung quickly looked up to see what she left, surprised to find a weathered envelope waiting for him. Its flap had clearly been picked at, but never fully opened. 

Wooyoung turned the letter over, another wave of shock hitting him as it was addressed to none other than Hongjoong. Another letter from his father.

“Where did you get this?” Wooyoung mumbled, holding the envelope up for Kwan to see.

“From his father. I told you, we were good friends.” The oni reminded. “He was always putting himself in dangerous situations. And most of the time, he would walk away unscathed. But on those rare days when he came back injured, I would always patch him up. That letter,” he gestured to the envelope, “was given to Yuna on his last visit. He thought it’d be safe in her care and that somehow, she could deliver it to Hongjoong.”

Which never happened, as the letter was still at Kwan’s shop. 

“I’ll make sure this gets to Hongjoong.” Wooyoung promised, securing the precious letter next to the antidote vial. “And if you don’t mind me asking, how did you and Hongjoong’s father meet?”

Kwan paused, pursing his lips and for a moment, Wooyoung thought he overstepped the oni’s boundaries. 

“From a mutual friend,” Kwan revealed to Wooyoung’s relief. “He needed someone who knew how to make special medicine and I needed someone to run errands for me from time to time since Yuna was still too little. So, we made a deal that if I helped him make the medicine he needed, he would pick up some rare stock for me on his trips. I voluntarily became his medic as time went on.” 

That and the oni empathized with the single parent, but he didn’t tell Wooyoung that detail.

Wooyoung hummed in understanding, just noticing that a clock was conveniently mounted behind Kwan’s head. Sunset would be arriving soon and he hadn’t even finished his route thanks to his overextended visit at the medicine shop.

Looks like the delivery team would have some extra mail tomorrow.

“Well, I should be heading out now. My members will begin to worry if I’m not back soon.” Wooyoung said, backing towards the front door. “Thank you again, Kwan. For everything.”

“The pleasure was all mine. You’re welcome here anytime…” The pair never properly exchanged names. 

“Wooyoung.” He supplied.

“Wooyoung.” Kwan repeated with a small grin.

With that, the boy opened the door and exited the shop, the wind chime signalling his departure. 

Outside, the sky began to shift from a cloudy blue to hues of yellow, orange and pink — a sign that night was arriving soon. Wooyoung shimmied back through the tight alleyway, bursting onto the other street and beginning to make his way back to Illusion Post.

But something didn’t feel right.

Wooyoung felt like he wasn’t entirely alone walking along the empty streets. Every distant clatter and clang put him further on edge, the map being folded every few minutes as he looked over his shoulder paranoidly. 

He was anticipating something to slither out from the darkening alleyways or jump down from the rooftops but nothing happened as the minutes passed. 

That’s when he heard the sound of metal echo down the street.

Wooyoung whipped around and held his ground, eyes scanning over every nook and cranny on the street. A seemingly harmless can rolled under the light of a lamppost.

Wooyoung held his breath, continuing to search the area until he noticed something unnaturally wavering in the shadows. 

_Not again…_ He broke out into a sprint down the street, a dark figure darting out after him. It was a corrupt spirit, the same kind that Wooyoung and San had dealt with on that frigid winter night. 

Wooyoung glanced down at his map once more before stuffing it in his satchel, taking a sharp turn and hearing the spirit’s broken scream as it advanced on him. He knew that he would have to restrict the spirit eventually if he wanted to save his own skin, but he felt far more frightened than last time.

And he had every right to be.

When Wooyoung spun around and successfully bound the spirit, it writhed under his magical restraints for less than a minute before easily breaking them into rune fragments. His blood ran cold as the chase continued, the spirit letting out a triumphant howl in pursuit. 

Wooyoung frantically followed the roads back to Main Street, managing to catch the attention of two more corrupt spirits on the way. He couldn’t effectively restrain them on his own without San, so he was holding out that Yunho would still be waiting for him to help.

Turning onto Main Street, Wooyoung noticed a figure leaning against a corner lamp post, fiddling with their fingers. 

“Yunho!” He called out of breath and caused the boy to jump at the sudden cry. Yunho looked over to see Wooyoung sprinting down the street, wondering why he was running so fast until the trio of corrupt spirits came into view. 

He immediately jogged into the middle of the street to meet Wooyoung, catching him to stop his intense momentum.

“Stay behind me!” He instructed, materializing a paper talisman from his satchel and holding it between two fingers. A flame crawled up his hand and engulfed the paper, the runes glowing under the fire and summoning a glowing familiar. 

It stood readily in front of the pair, Yunho giving it the silent command to attack. Whilst his familiar tousled with the spirits, Yunho grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist and yelled, “Let’s go!”

“What about your familiar?” Wooyoung asked as Yunho was already pulling him along, glancing over his shoulder at the creature battling with the corrupt spirits. 

“It’ll be fine! Don’t worry about it!” He responded.

The pair hurried back to Illusion Post, flying through the front door and catching the attention of San at the front desk.

“They’re back!” He called, racing to meet Wooyoung and Yunho as the other members poured in apprehensively.

“What took you two so long? You know better than to stay out too late, especially given our current situation.” Seonghwa scolded lightly, brushing past them to lock the front door as early night descended over the city. 

“Give them a break, Hwa. They just got back.” Jongho remarked.

“Did you manage to find an antidote?” Yeosang asked hopefully, the other members falling silent and facing Wooyoung. The boy nodded and handed the vial to Yeosang, who eagerly inspected it. Then, his expression melted into one of immense gratitude and relief.

“I got this too.” Wooyoung showed the yellowed envelope, the kitsune hesitantly taking it. “Turns out the owner of the medicine shop I visited was an old friend of Joong’s father.” 

Yeosang quietly inspected it and mumbled, “I’ll bring these to Hongjoong.” He disappeared down the hall with Seonghwa at his heels, the pair ascending the stairs to dorm rooms.

“Did anything happen while you were out?” Mingi questioned as the remaining members moved to the sorting room.

“A group of corrupt spirits were chasing after Wooyoung.” Yunho explained, taking Wooyoung’s half filled satchel and beginning to divvy the remaining postage amongst tomorrow’s loads. 

“Really?” San gasped, leaning over the desk and babbling away. “Why didn’t you cast a binding spell?”

“Because it doesn’t work if I try it by myself,” Wooyoung muttered, gritting his teeth and giving San a hard glare. He really didn’t want to talk about this right now with everyone listening in. San clearly didn’t get the memo.

“But if you were in range of me you could have tapped into my energy you know,” San pointed out. “Where were you when they attacked you? Near Main?”

“San,” Wooyoung scoffed. “I really don’t think it would’ve made a difference—“

“Oh, no, I’m not saying you're weak or anything,” San rushed to defend himself, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I’m just trying to look out for you, until you get all your powers back!”

“Woah, woah, time out,” Jongho interjected, physically coming between the two before their argument worsened. “Get his power back? I thought you two were each half of the same being?”

Silence invaded at the finishing of his words, and tense glances were thrown around between the members as they realised the truth was coming out.

“We were,” San nearly whispered, gaze hesitantly resting on a despondent Wooyoung. “But there was an accident and we were really badly hurt, so bad that it split us into two. We had to put the pieces of ourselves back together separately and… figure out who we were, I guess.”

“Being born into a completely new person,” Wooyoung croaked out, his voice rough from the emotions grabbing hold. “It’s unbelievably painful. Especially when you’re missing some of the pieces.”

“You see, I have more splinters of our being than he does,” San explained, facing their awestruck audience. “They passed into Byeol, so she’s my familiar. But Wooyoung… he’s still missing some. And they could be important connecting pieces so he _really_ should try to get them back.”

Wooyoung shook him off and took a step back when San’s tone became pleading. “No, San. Maybe it’s just time to realise that I’ll never be as good as you.” His voice was bitter and there were angry tears in his eyes.

“You don’t mean that,” San whimpered, reaching his arm out. 

“I do,” Wooyoung ground out. “If you won’t accept it, I will.”

And with that he stalked away, leaving the room in a strange sense of discomfort, like they had listened in on something they shouldn’t have. 

Meanwhile inside his dorm room, Hongjoong was peacefully asleep with a warm wet towel plastered on his forehead. Gingerly, Seonghwa lifted it and rinsed it, the simple act enough to rouse Hongjoong. He turned towards Yeosang and Seonghwa, blinking groggily and hoarsely asking, “Are Wooyoung and Yunho back yet?”

“They returned a few minutes ago with some medicine. You should take it now.” Yeosang reported, holding up the vial and making Hongjoong’s face scrunch with disgust as he imagined its bitter taste.

“Can I take it later?” He whispered tiredly, adjusting himself under the covers as Seonghwa placed the newly cold towel over his forehead.

“You can, but know that I’m not allowing you to read this letter until you do.” Yeosang replied, showing Joong the envelope with his name printed in familiar handwriting on the back.

His father.

“Wait, I’ll take it now.” He gasped, quickly sitting up and receiving a head rush. Seonghwa caught the damp towel as it fell from his forehead, Yeosang letting out an amused chuckle. 

When Hongjoong had finished taking the antidote with some coaxing from Seonghwa, Yeosang handed him the envelope. 

The letters swam on the page, so with a feverish grunt and a nod towards the letter, Hongjoong got Yeosang to read it aloud for him.

_My dearest Hongjoong,_

_You were always a proud kid. You liked doing things for yourself, you liked being a part of something, you liked proving you were just as special as the spirit kids your age. Sometimes, your pride got you into trouble._

Seonghwa suppressed a chuckle here and Yeosang glared at him before continuing.

_I’m sure you still remember that winter when some of your fire-breathing “friends” dared to you lick a frozen pole. Of course, you refused to back down and, lacking fire-breathing skills, got your tongue stuck. I waited a long time for you before I went out and found you abandoned, cold and scared and still stuck to that pole. You must have been so anxious waiting for me as I left you alone again to fetch water and a blanket for you. When you had a good cry and I got you safely home, forehead flicked you for your brainlessness, and bundled you up for bed, you were wary of even the sight of a flagpole for a good week or so, but you had learned something very valuable in the icy chill of that lonely street._

_Patience. You waited there for me to return to rescue you even though you had already been stuck so long. Once something has begun, it will take you patience to complete it, or you risk pain. I never wanted to see you in pain, but I know you have what it takes to overcome it._

_Never stop smiling._

Hongjoong swallowed harshly and sat back in bed. Patience.

He wasn’t even sure what he was waiting for but still, he was being asked to be patient.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa’s voice pulled him back to the present. “What do you think it means?”

“It means maybe I should have bought that good luck charm,” Hongjoong mumbled, half-serious. “I mean, an attempt on my life every other week? This is a post office, how did we end up in the middle of a gang war?”

“Don’t forget the end of the world,” Yeosang added.

“Right,” Hongjoong snorted, running his hands down his face. “A gang war and the end of the world. If I’m patient any longer, it’ll get someone killed. I think I know how to end all this.”

Seonghwa was already pulling the unopenable package out from under the bed in anticipation.

“The kaminari-gumi must want whatever is in here,” Hongjoong insisted, picking at the twine with a sense of familiarity and shuddering with a leftover chill. 

“We need to destroy it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are definitely coming to a head for our post office gang! Did you enjoy the chapter? Let us know your favourite part or your predictions for the future in the comments and thanks so much for your support :)


	7. Shortcuts through Shadow Town

The wind battered at the rickety window and Hongjoong eyed it nervously from his bed. His father was mumbling about how he had to make sure to bring all the garden tools inside before it rained. It was the night before he was sent to the Illusion Post for the last time. 

“You know I love you, right?”

Hongjoong blinked and turned away from the window. It wasn’t something his father said aloud often, but he nodded and reached up for a hug when the question was posed. Hugs were also rare, and Hongjoong cherished every second of it.

Father pressed a kiss to his forehead and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

As he walked away and shut the bedroom door, the world faded behind him. Hongjoong came back to himself and realised he was at the Post.

“Dad…?”

“Just me,” Seonghwa rumbled quietly, returning to his side and pushing sweaty hair off of Hongjoong’s forehead. “It’s morning, but there’s no rush. You can go back to sleep.”

“He’s dead.”  
  
“Pardon?”

“My dad. He’s dead now,” Hongjoong choked out through the lump in his throat. Regret was bundled up there tightly. “I should have told him I loved him too.”

Seonghwa blinked at him in surprise. They had ever really talked about it before. Hongjoong’s father was a ghost from the past, and this was the present.

“Well,” he sighed awkwardly after clearing his throat. Maybe ridding himself of the package would rid him of some of that guilt. “Are you ready to do this?”

Hongjoong exhaled slowly through his nose. Of course he wasn’t ready. He’d spent years wondering what was inside that box and now all that waiting was going to be wasted.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured Seonghwa as he helped him out of bed. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Seonghwa smiled to himself as they walked down the stairs. There was no way Hongjoong’s father didn’t know he loved him.

The package in question was brought outside at his discretion so as not to damage the office furniture if any spells went haywire.

Hongjoong watched with clasped hands as Yunho and Mingi both gave it everything they had, scorching fire of various shades dissipating on contact with the thing. Not a single burn mark was left behind. Wooyoung and San had their turn, flinging spell after spell at the box and watching them glance off the edges harmlessly. Jongho’s attacks were equally useless and both Seonghwa’s sword and Yeosang’s claws didn’t even cut the twine binding it together.

With a sigh, Hongjoong filled up the watering can to put out a small patch of grass still burning blue from a stray paper spell. “There has to be something we’re missing. It can’t be indestructible… can it?”

The members exchanged exhausted glances which eventually fell on a distant Wooyoung and San. Ever since yesterday’s quarrel, the two still hadn’t spoken a word to one another. Unless you counted grunts and hums. 

“Well, we could always try again.” Yeosang suggested when no one replied, because no one could really answer that question except Wooyoung and San. 

It wasn’t an ideal situation for the Post’s binding spell experts to be in a dispute, so the kitsune decided to push for a resolution. He met San’s gaze and motioned his head towards Wooyoung. 

San’s mouth went dry and he hesitantly looked over at Wooyoung brooding beside him. They both knew that the package was one enchantment away from being completely indestructible, having diagnosed it many times over per Hongjoong’s request. 

San cautiously hovered a hand over Wooyoung’s shoulder, only for the boy to turn away coldly. He winced in surprise, but nevertheless continued. “Wooyoung, do you want to try again first?” 

No response came, not even a motion of acknowledgement and for a moment, Yeosang feared he made matters worse. San let out an embarrassed chuckle, scanning the group until he landed on Jongho. “Would you mind going instead? I don’t think we’re quite ready to give it another shot.”

Jongho quickly nodded, a signal for San to finally bandage the accidental wound he’s caused. As the strong spirit moved, San lifted Byeol from his lap and gently hooked Wooyoung’s arm in his, hearing no protest as he led them away from the grass. 

“We’ll be back soon.” He whispered to Hongjoong, who had long since put out the fire and was observing Jongho prepare himself again. The postmaster simply nodded, casting a worried glance over his shoulder as they departed.

The pair of spirits wandered aimlessly through the streets, putting as much distance between themselves and their members as possible. San quietly led Wooyoung along, speculating how he was going to start this conversation. He didn’t mean to cause Wooyoung any harm, but what’s done was done, so he started where any apology should begin.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” San mumbled, trying to meet Wooyoung’s gaze glued to the ground. “I know how you feel about the whole situation and--”

“Do you think it’s my fault?” Wooyoung suddenly interrupted, stopping dead in his tracks and causing San to stumble from the abrupt pause. 

“What do you mean?” He questioned concernedly. 

Wooyoung took a slow, shaky breath. “Do you think it’s my fault that some effects of the binding spell still linger on Mingi’s arm? That Hongjoong was nearly killed because of my slowness to dispel the paralysis spell? That I endangered Yunho because I could hardly fight those lowly spirits last night?”

“Why would you think that, Woo?” San whispered, clearly upset and even daring to press up against him. 

“You said it yourself, I’m missing some pieces.” Wooyoung managed to say, pushing past a familiar wave of strong emotions. “If I had even one or two more of them, do you think those things would’ve played out differently?” 

A beat. “I honestly don’t know.” San admitted softly.

Wooyoung sighed, feeling his eyes grow heavy. “... I don’t want to be weak.”

“You’re not,” San quickly reiterated, intertwining their hands and giving Wooyoung’s a comforting squeeze. “ Just because _we_ have experienced a few shortcomings, doesn’t make _you_ weak.”

With one unexpected event after another plaguing the Illusion Post recently, it was easy for Wooyoung to let every mistake fall on himself, on his own inability. But it was also easy to forget that he wasn’t the only reason why those faults might have occured. 

“You’re not alone, Woo. Don’t forget that.” 

Wooyoung nodded, blinking some mist away as San watched him with a frown. 

He patiently waited for Wooyoung’s sadness to pass, procuring a handkerchief from his pocket that Seonghwa had knowingly given him before they left the Post earlier. 

And when everything subdued, Wooyoung simply clutching the dampened cloth, San gently asked, “Ready to give it another go?” They would have to worry about properly taking care of their own problems later. 

He nodded and San guided him back through the blocks and turns they had taken earlier until a familiar lawn came into view.

Their members had changed spots and from the looks of it, they all had another attempt of destroying the package to no avail. The measly package was still there, surrounded by unevenly cut and singed blades of grass.

Hongjoong was first to notice their returning presence, busy extinguishing another burning patch of grass nearby. Soon, everyone’s gaze fell on the pair of spirits, more specifically San as Wooyoung was still puffy-eyed, prodding him wordlessly — _how did everything go?_

San returned their anxious stares with a curt nod, everyone visibly relaxing.

Wooyoung and San glared at the worn package, solemn but determined to fulfill Hongjoong’s request. 

Their hands tightened as they harnessed every magical bit in their body, Byeol trotting across to nuzzle her head against San’s leg, giving him an extra burst of energy. Then they began to cast a series of spells at the package, noticeably stronger and more concentrated than before.

Everyone held their breath as one spell after another bounced off the package, holding onto a shred of hope that even a scratch would be left behind. And after truly giving it their all, Wooyoung and San still couldn’t do any damage.

Wooyoung stared at the package, crestfallen and loosening his grip on San’s hand, who was quick to solidify their grasp again. He grinned at Wooyoung proudly, Byeol even looking up at them with admiration in her round gaze. 

The members made sure Wooyoung saw their reassurance before Hongjoong decided to call it a day for attempting to destroy the package. Sadly, they didn’t have all day to chip away at it since deliveries were still waiting to be made. 

So they made their way back to the Post before making a beeline for the sorting room, Hongjoong stowing his father’s package away in the front desk’s secret compartment with disappointment. He wasn’t sure he could go through with attempting to destroy the package again. 

Yeosang silently appeared by his side, reaching across the desk and opening the tracking book, flipping through the pages in search of something. “Everyone’s almost ready to leave.” He announced distractedly, turning another page.

Hongjoong hummed, looking back at the compartment again and sighing. “I think we need to get away for awhile.”

The kitsune looked over at Joong, his ears perking up. “Get away? As in a vacation?”

It wasn’t unheard of for the Illusion Post to take extended breaks — past staff had done it many times over the years — but it had been awhile since the last one. This would be the first Post vacation since Yeosang was a young kit and the first one under Hongjoong’s management. 

“Mhm. I think it’ll do us some good to go away, with everything that’s been going on recently,” Joong nodded, clearly not blind to the amount of stress and struggles his members had been facing lately. “Don’t you think so?”

“Sure,” Yeosang responded, closing the heavy book and adding, “I’ll start looking into it. It won’t be anything too far away.” He already had some ideas for their much needed getaway brewing in his mind. 

“Thanks.” Joong gave him a smile, hearing the delivery members scurry past the front desk and exit through the front door in a flurry. “Is there a lot of mail to deliver today?” He watched Yunho frantically catch the door so it wouldn’t slam loudly and rattle the building. 

“A little more than usual. Wooyoung didn’t finish his route yesterday.” Yeosang reminded. “But it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

___

The sunlight was fading but Yunho was making good time. Among the delivery boys, he was one of the fastest, so it took him only a bit longer than usual to make up for Wooyoung’s detour at the medicine shop.

When only one letter remained in the bottom of his bag, the sun was on the horizon and wispy violet clouds streaked in the sky above him.

Stomach grumbling, Yunho decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway to reach the final address.

He knew this part of town was the shadow district, kaminari-gumi territory, but as long as it shaved a few minutes off his delivery time, it was worth the risk and he could be home sooner. There was still training to be done with Mingi anyway.

Materialising from the smoke, a spirit appeared in the middle of the narrow road.

“Excuse me…” Yunho muttered politely. “If I could just get through…”

The shadowy figure didn’t budge. Huffing, Yunho turned the other way. If the stranger insisted on ignoring him, he’d go around the block and take a different shortcut.

The moment he faced the opposite alley, he realised what was happening. 

Another shadowy figure stood there, blazing eyes trained on him.

Yunho swallowed and took a step back. The moment he did, he bumped into the first spirit, who made a sudden grab for him.

Anticipating the movement, Yunho ducked out of the way and took off running past the stranger.

They were just a couple of troublemaking dark spirits, he could easily outrun them and be on his way.

But as soon as he reached the adjoining street, three more corrupted spirits sprang down from the rooftops and streetlights, cutting him off. 

So this was a coordinated attack.

Yunho had no choice but to spin on his heel and make a break for the city centre. They wouldn’t follow him there, it was too close to the police…

Again, he was cut off, this time by the first spirit from the alleyway. And now he was completely surrounded.

He threw down his delivery bag and reached for his paper spells.

“Why are you doing this?” He panted, trying to buy himself some time. “What do you want with me?”

The corner of the lead spirit’s mouth curled upwards insidiously. “Unfinished business,” he said simply, wisps of smoke leaving his eyes as they turned blue with a new ferocity.

Yunho set his jaw and lit the first spell. 

He wasn’t going anywhere without a fight.

___

Despite the fact that spring was well along and the breezes through the office’s open windows grew warmer every day, Hongjoong had pulled on a full length shirt for work and refused to roll up the sleeves. 

The smudge from yesterday had grown into more defined lines, a vaguely swirly shape forming from the black stain.

Hongjoong couldn’t stop trembling as he stared at it. He had locked himself in the storage cabinet again while Yeosang handled closing to get a good look at the mark, having endured its pinching while he was at the desk for hours, almost like it was staining him against his will.

Was this an after-effect of the poison? Or something much worse?

He pushed up his glasses and peered more closely. Again, that buzzing feeling returned when he touched the mark and made him stumble back into a filing cabinet. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the lights flickering above him or his own vision fading in and out from the strange rush.

A knock at the door made him jump out of his skin.

“Jongho and San are heading out to the library to look for more information on unbreakable seals,” Yeosang reported. “Just… you know, if you wanted to join…”

Taking a deep breath, Hongjoong pushed his sleeve back down and opened the door.

His kitsune companion was looking at him with concern in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong said quickly, stepping into the hall with a fabricated air of nonchalance. He wasn’t alright, he was terrified.

“Are you sure?” Yeosang pressed, following him back into the lobby.

“Yes,” Hongjoong answered more firmly, cleaning off the front desk and refusing to meet Yeosang’s eyes. He knew he should probably tell someone about the mark but it would only add to their distress in an already exhausting week. Hongjoong didn’t even know what to make of it yet himself and this type of thing… was personal. 

“You’re not nauseous, are you?” Yeosang asked tentatively. “I knew you shouldn’t have come to work so soon, with the poison still wearing off.”

“You know what, I’m going to turn in early,” Hongjoong snapped, turning around and resting his hands on the kitsune’s shoulders. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m good for the night. Go get yourself some rest, hmm?”

Yeosang sighed, embarrassed, and pushed Hongjoong’s hands away. “Alright, alright, I’ll let you be. If you were sick you’d have been in the bathroom, not the panic closet.”

Hongjoong bit his lip and collected his things. Yeosang knew him too well.

By the time he had dragged himself upstairs, most of the delivery team had returned from their routes and begun supper-- a loud and boisterous affair as usual.

Hongjoong closed the bedroom door to try to block out some of the sound and changed quickly, paranoid that Seonghwa would walk in at any moment and see the dark mark. 

When he climbed into bed, his gaze landed on the little plant that sat on the windowsill.

Despite his best efforts, the browning cactus was drooping like it had been smashed by something, and the rotten roots were useless despite perfectly tended soil. 

It was dead. 

___

“Back off!” Yunho demanded, punctuating his yell with a flick of his wrist, sending an inflamed paper spell at the nearest gangster.

The spirit easily evaded it and twirled closer, supernaturally light on its feet, but was suddenly swept onto the ground by a glowing familiar, summoned by Yunho’s paper talisman.

Yunho ducked a couple of blows from surrounding spirits but spun face to face with the group’s leader. He held a cloth laced with some type of sedative and his intentions were clear.

He was trying to kidnap him.

“I didn’t _do_ anything to you,” the delivery boy insisted, dancing out of the way of the lead spirit. The gangster didn’t answer him, simply burning brighter and letting off an electrical hum before clamping his claws onto Yunho’s arm.

The street lamp above them popped and then broke, glass shards raining down and distracting the dark spirits for a moment so Yunho could squirm out of the painful grip.

“A little help, buddy!” He yelled over to his dog-like familiar, who was busy growling at a pair of spirits he had backed into a corner.

The noise grabbed his attackers’ attention again and in a moment half a dozen corrupt spirits fell on the glowing familiar at once until he whined and dissipated into smoke and runes, overwhelmed.

“No…” Yunho gasped weakly, reaching for another paper spell but being knocked to the ground quickly. 

He was gravely outnumbered.

The paper slipped out of his fingers and into the gutter as the drugged cloth was pressed to his face.

Yunho saw the world fall on its side and fade into pitch blackness.

His limbs became numb and useless as his mind grew weary with heavy thoughts.

 _Please find me,_ he called out helplessly into the silent void. _Anyone_.

___

Street lamps cast light like rivers of gold on the path that led Jongho and San to the library.

The ancient building was at the heart of the main university complex, but it was a centre of learning for all, from the city’s most prominent academics to the novice mages and young hybrid spirits.

Spiralling staircases and ornate balconies and banisters decorated the central room, and many more hallways branched off. It was easy to get lost in such a massive archive with its many wings and corridors, so the librarians fetched the books themselves unless an experienced guest wished to peruse the expansive collection. 

A floating library page met the pair in the entrance and asked if they needed assistance. San wondered how she could see them through the wild hair covering her eyes but she expertly led them to a table and stacked up the most helpful materials in a matter of minutes before returning to the desk.

“I can’t believe Hongjoong isn’t pressing charges against that mage,” Jongho muttered bitterly, flipping through an essay on white magic spells. “I mean, he has her address— it would take, like, twenty minutes to go there, bust some heads, and be done with it.”

“I’m highly curious as to why she poisoned him in the first place,” San mused from across the table. “It’s pretty much impossible to feel threatened by Hongjoong, and it’s not like he has any riches for her to go after.”

“She’s a prophetess, isn’t she?” Jongho pointed out. “Maybe it’s all part of some big scheme to save the world. Though I don’t see how killing him could make much of a difference.”

San pouted and nudged him from under the table. “That’s not very nice.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Jongho whined. “Of course Hongjoong has value— just not to a conniving oracle like Mirae, being human and all.”

“It does raise some questions,” San agreed, pulling a scroll off his stack and unravelling it. “Especially since she knew his father. At least, that’s what Wooyoung said.”

Jongho sighed and reached for another tome himself. “And that’s another thing— why is his father sending us on this wild goose chase from beyond the grave? Whatever’s in this unbreakable package had better be worth the trouble.”

“Ooh, like buried treasure or something!” San fantasized, ignoring the librarian’s warning shush.

“Buried treasure…” Jongho repeated quietly. The suggestion had gotten him thinking.

Pulling a history of cursed objects book out of the bottom of the stack, he flipped through until he found something that sounded similar.

San was quickly catching on. “You think if we can’t destroy it…”

“...Maybe we can find a way to open it.” Jongho finished for him. “Wait, look at this! 78 years ago an ancient treasure that was uncovered in the desert hundreds of years prior was miraculously opened. Get this— it was sealed by an unbreakable spell and opened with a series of ‘keys’ that broke the seal.”

“Keys!” San exclaimed, collapsing back into his chair. The librarian’s shushing this time was enough to make him blush and bow slightly in apology. “Where are we supposed to find keys?” He hissed, volume much lower now. “And the package doesn’t even have a keyhole!”

Jongho was lost in thought again, but quickly scanned the titles on the rest of the books before scooting back his chair and hurrying over to the front desk. 

“Do you happen to have anything else on this type of object seal?” He asked the spirit in a low voice, pointing to the illustrations. “A more recent instance, perchance?”

“Ah, yes,” she responded with a smirk, opening up an unseen filing cabinet with a slight hand motion. The prize file floated out and into her hands where she handed it back to him. “This is everything in the database. It’s not much, but if you need one or two examples, you’ll find them in there.”

Jongho thanked her profusely and returned to a petulant San, who snatched the folder and flipped through it himself.

“Aha!” He whispered excitedly. “‘In the case of a more disguised container, not crafted of wood or stone, keys can be created out of any object magically bonded to the treasure and used to break the seal. There may be any number of keys from one to five.’ This must be how Hongjoong’s package was locked!”

Jongho looked over his shoulder at the paragraph and hummed in thought, trying to figure out what ordinary objects the mystery keys might be that Hongjoong’s father knew he would have access to without even noticing. 

“How many letters do we have from him?” He suddenly asked, realisation dawning on his face.

Again, San quickly arrived on the same wavelength. “Since arriving at the Post? Three.”

“And all in the past year,” Jongho breathes, shaking his head in amazement. “That’s why his father keeps leaving them for us. He wants us to open the package.”

“Now I’m _really_ wondering what’s in there,” San muttered as they cleaned up the table and thanked the librarian profusely on their way out.

Crickets chirped loudly in the bushes that dotted the campus as the park returned quickly to the Post. They had been out a lot later than they intended, but at least they had something to show for it.

“We’re back!” San announced loudly as he threw the door open.

Seonghwa, Yeosang, Mingi, and Wooyoung were all assembled there, looking anxious about something while their meal sat cold and untouched in the kitchen.

“Why the long faces?” Jongho scoffed, closing the blinds and locking the door. “We found some quality information that should interest all of you.”

“Sorry…” Wooyoung mumbled, picking with his fingernail at a groove in the front desk. “We were just hoping you were Yunho.”

“Yunho?” San asked quietly, stomach already dropping. “What’s wrong, where is he?”

“We’re not sure,” Yeosang sighed. “It’s true, he had extra mail to deliver, but he should’ve been back by now.”

“We were waiting on you to go look for him,” Mingi explained, pulling on his jacket and unlocking the door again. Nearly everyone followed suit quickly and got ready to go back out into the night.

“Wait, I don’t want to lose you all, too,” Seonghwa interjected breathlessly, grabbing the back of Yeosang’s collar as he headed out the door. “It could be dangerous, something may have happened to him…”

“Then it’s better that we find him quickly,” Yeosang returned firmly. The other members voiced their agreement unanimously from the front step and Seonghwa relinquished his grip.

“Please be careful,” he cautioned with a sigh. “I’ll stay here in case Yunho comes back. Don’t be out too long and don’t try to take matters into your own hands. We can always call the police.”

Yeosang chuckled softly. Seonghwa would really do just about anything to avoid a fight. 

“Don’t let Hongjoong catch wind of this before he has to,” the kitsune warned, glancing at the stairs that led up to where their leader was hopefully sleeping peacefully, unburdened.

Seonghwa cringed and followed his glance. “I’ll do my best.”

And so he watched five of his brothers disappear down the street and clasped his hands together nervously as he considered what might have become of the sixth.

___

Yunho awoke to a splitting headache and the sound of water dripping nearby. It was pitch black all around him but the voices he could hear whispering harshly were close enough that he knew he wasn’t alone.

From the distinct musty smell and cold concrete feeling of the floor beneath his bare feet, he gathered he was underground somewhere. He sat in a chair with his hands tied behind him. There wasn’t much else to latch onto, so he tuned in to the conversation happening nearby.

“They wanted results. What’s the point if it isn’t even him?”

A voice Yunho didn’t recognise, but one that sounded very aggravated.

“Then we’ve sent a message and warned them away from our territory,” came the answer. It was the spirit who had led the attack. “Besides, you felt his power— there’s at least a good chance. Only the boss will know for sure.”

“W-Where am I?” Yunho tried. His captors continued to speak in hushed tones, not acknowledging his questions or even his presence.

“He shows no signs of cosmic power,” the first voice argued. “Not even a tattoo.”

“He wouldn’t have a tattoo,” came the response. “His powers are suppressed so he can live among civilians.”

There was a tense pause before the first voice finally sighed and gave up. “If the boss comes to see for himself and it turns out to be a false lead… well, it wasn’t my idea.”

“That’s alright,” the second spirit snapped, his face suddenly appearing in front of Yunho, aglow with an unnerving light. “We can kill him either way.”

  
Yunho gasped and tried to inch away, but the lead spirit grabbed his face with a twisted claw and held him still. “No, no, please stop,” Yunho begged, trembling in his bonds. “You have the wrong person.”

But could he be sure?

“I can’t do anything special…” his pleas weakened with his attempts to pull free. “Just… just paper spells…” 

“It’s not what you can do,” the first voice hissed, appearing with a flash alongside the other spirit. “It’s what you’re going to do.”

The pieces suddenly fell into place and Yunho froze in his seat.

 _Impossible!_ He tried to convince himself he had misunderstood, but reason won out in the end.

_They think I’m the Prophesied One._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your patience! Both writers have been busy with work and school but we’re excited to offer you this chapter and hopeful you’ll like it ☺️ Don’t forget to leave a comment if you did!


	8. Keep Your Head

By the time Jongho, Mingi, Yeosang, Wooyoung and San departed from the Post, the warm day had dipped into a cool night. The city streets had all but quieted, save for the few that made up Yunho’s route, which were hurriedly but thoroughly searched along. 

Anyone watching the group of boys from their cramped windowsill would think they were possessed, huddling closely together whilst briskly turning corners before promptly dispersing out over the next avenue. But they weren’t possessed, rather intensely focused on inspecting every nook and cranny — every faded rune array inscribed on the walls, every assorted pile of discarded items tucked in between alleyways — that wasn’t already illuminated by lamplight. 

All while racing against a clock that ticked closer and closer to their curfew.

It was a difficult task to accomplish, so spreading out to cover more area and reconvening to briefly report was the quickest way to ensure they were covering everything and that they weren’t leaving behind any clues that could indicate Yunho’s current whereabouts.

Soon, they were blazing a trail under the moonlight, one that sparked with more and more concern as they neared the end of the route.

The kitsune however, tried to hide his emotion under an uncommonly stoic expression.

Someone had to remain visibly calm or else they’d all drive themselves insane with fear fueled fantasies. 

And turning onto the next street, he heard one slip out of Jongho’s mouth. “What if we can’t find Yunho, Yeosang?” He hushed so only Yeosang could hear.

The kitsune ears perked up at the question that was asked in time with the rapid footsteps of his members already dividing to search. Yeosang shook his head and gave Jongho a gentle glance. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Yunho will turn up soon.” He reassured, although he internally harbored the same fear.

Jongho nodded slowly before moving to his area of inspection as Yeosang began his sweep of the rooftops. Halfway down the street, Wooyoung came to meet the kitsune with a curt shake of his head.

Mingi followed suit and eventually Jongho — Yeosang couldn’t help but let out a tired sigh and allow a frisson of fear to rattle him. 

But, the sensation didn’t last long as someone called up ahead. “Guys, over here! I think I found something.” 

It was San and like moths drawn to a flame, the members raced down the street to join him. He was standing at the mouth of a dark alleyway, staring down the corridor at a deflated satchel cloaked in shadow. 

Mingi quickly brushed past him and crouched down to inspect the satchel, immediately recognizing it. “It’s Yunho’s bag.” He pulled a single, undelivered letter out of it. Everyone held their breath and quickly scanned the alleyway for runes or any suspicious trash before wordlessly moving forward. 

An eerie air settled between them and when breaking out onto the other street, it only thickened as San directed, “Over there.”

He pointed to a lamppost that appeared to have a burned out bulb. But upon closer inspection, they realized it hadn’t burned out — it had been shattered. 

The group raced over to the pile of broken shards, already knowing that something must’ve happened to Yunho here. 

“Search the area.” Yeosang instructed and on his command, everyone split up without hesitation. A few minutes later, Wooyoung cried, “I found one of Yunho’s paper spells!”

In a gutter, nonetheless. 

“What does this mean?” Jongho mumbled as the members began to crowd back around Yeosang, who had been inspecting the glass shards. And as soon as the question was asked, everyone unanimously thought of the same answer.

Wooyoung huffed and repeated rather hotly, “What does _this_ mean? It means that-”

“We shouldn’t act rashly on this.” Yeosang was quick to cut him off, seeing how Yunho’s paper spell was crumpled in his fist.

They were clearly dealing with something bigger than themselves and adhering to Seonghwa’s instructions, the kitsune proclaimed they would be returning now. Wooyoung tried to argue with Yeosang but San and Jongho herded him along, much to his distaste. Mingi quietly delivered the last letter along the way, clutching onto Yunho’s satchel like it might suddenly fly away. 

The other members couldn’t imagine how Mingi felt about this situation. He had been quite close with Yunho lately, the delivery boy helping him rekindle his fire and all.

When eventually filed back into the Post, Seonghwa came knowingly flying down the stairs as Wooyoung made a beeline for the telephone. 

“What happened?” He whispered loudly, watching as Mingi silently shuffled past him towards the sorting room with Jongho at his heels, satchel still in hand.

“Yunho’s been kidnapped.” Wooyoung grimaced, the receiver shoved against his ear as he dialed the police with San standing worriedly by his side.

“Kidnapped? By who?” The color drained from Seonghwa’s face, thinking about Yunho somewhere alone and scared and not safely within the walls of the Illusion Post. 

“Shouldn’t it be obvious who it is by now? Who else has been causing us trouble lately?” Wooyoung muttered bitterly, focused on the floor as the telephone rang. 

Seonghwa’s eyes widened in horror and he looked to Yeosang for confirmation.“His satchel was left behind, a light bulb was shattered and we found one of his paper spells. I don’t know of many others who’d suddenly provoke a delivery boy.” The kitsune responded simply.

Seonghwa appeared ready to protest, but the words died on his tongue as San called for silence — a small, feminine voice was greeting Wooyoung over the phone.

“I’d like to report an abduction,” he started, San pressing up close to hear their conversation. “I’m calling from the Illusion Post- yes, us again,” a break; San let out an amused puff of air. “Jeong Yunho is his name. We suspect he was kidnapped by one of the yakuza.” A break. “Which one? The kaminari-gumi.” A break. “Well, no, we don’t exactly have solid evidence but-” A break that was filled with an harsh exhale from Wooyoung. 

His expression soon darkened and if Seonghwa and Yeosang didn’t know any better, they’d think he was about to break the phone. But before that could happen, San relinquished the receiver from Wooyoung and continued to take in whatever information the police had for them. 

San politely nodded along and mouthed half replies on his lips as Wooyoung brooded beside him before mumbling a “thank you” and hanging up dejectedly. 

Everyone was glued to him with round, hopeful eyes (at some point, Mingi and Jongho had rejoined the group in the lobby to listen to the phone call.)

“They won’t investigate the incident on the premise that we don’t have any sound proof. Not to mention, they have no clue where the kaminari-gumi headquarters is located.” San explained with a frown. Seonghwa and Yeosang turned to one another, the unspoken question of _what do we do now?_ hanging between them. 

___

Yunho bit his tongue to keep from crying out as he was hit with another bolt of electricity.

Through his hazy vision and gasps of pain, he could only see the spirits’ puzzled expressions. 

“He’s not absorbing it,” the taller spirit hummed, annoyed. He seemed to be the liaison between the spirit who had led the attack and the higher-ups who had ordered the kidnapping.

“Maybe he’s just pretending not to,” the lead spirit snapped back, turning to scowl at Yunho again before zapping him.

Yunho bit his tongue so hard it began to bleed and he couldn’t help but whimper at the way his body ached.

“How many forms can you take?” The spirit barked, a small bolt of lightning resting between his fingers and crackling over his hand as he prepared to strike again in a punch. “Say something!”

“‘S not me, I swear,” Yunho insisted hoarsely, hating the way his voice broke and trembled. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. “Please, I’m not who you’re looking for...”

“The shamans said you may be able to glimpse the future,” the tall spirit broke in, hoping to get some information out of him. “What have you seen?”

“I can’t,” Yunho responded, tears of frustration threatening. “None of us know anything about that, please, I’m telling you—”

“You’re lying! Where did you get your training?” The spirit growled. “You’re in league with someone with access to our inner workings and it isn’t any of those post office pipsqueaks.”

Before Yunho could even begin to answer the other spirit gripped his shirt, sending a jolt through him, and barraged him with more questions, as if overwhelming him would force him to break and give up the information they wanted.

“Why have you remained in hiding? You could have destroyed us by now, what’s the reason? Are you planning to bring darkness to the whole realm or simply eradicate the yakuza?”

The spirit looked impatient enough to kill him then and there but the taller one dragged him back and muttered into his ear, “His features don’t look right. He has power, but it doesn’t feel like the massive energy that still lurks somewhere. He isn’t one of ours, how could it possibly be him?”

But it was too late for second guessing. The boss had been summoned.

Yunho knew it the moment the spirits froze, the air becoming alive with a static hum.

An icy voice reached them from the shadows. The voice of a woman.

“Blindfold him.”

Powerless to stop them, Yunho sat still as the spirits tied a cloth around his eyes and the boss advanced on him.

Yunho could feel the temperature of the room change as the tantalising sound of the clicking of heels on the ground grew closer and closer.

“You’re sure this is him?” She asked with a lilt of amusement in her voice.

The corrupt spirits coughed out an affirmative answer, much less intimidating than they’d been a moment ago.

If he wasn’t terrified, Yunho would’ve found it funny.

“This prisoner does have great power,” she conceded, long nails suddenly digging into his face as she turned it from side to side. “In fact he was trained by some of the great Guardian Mages. Many of whom I killed myself for their interference.”

Yunho tensed. This woman was both secretive and powerful, with a deadly air and a mysterious identity. If she said he was the Prophesied One, what would they do to him? How could she even know for sure, without knowing anything else about him other than what she sensed from his magical aura?

As if in answer to his unspoken question, the woman released his face and began to circle his position, her voice echoing back to him like the hiss of a snake.

“The Prophesied One is a tiger that, prowling in the shadows, waits for a chance to sink its claws into our city. He could kill you by looking at you too long. His every breath is pain, his every touch is death.”

She paused, hovering somewhere above his face. 

“This is not him.”

Yunho released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Of course it wasn’t him, he knew that, but the intensity of her gaze, though unseen to him, was enough to make him question everything.

The sound of her shoes began to fade away, but the dark spirits called after her.

“What do we do with him?”

“I don’t care,” she laughed brightly, disturbingly so. “But redouble your efforts and expand your search. The enemy has the upper hand as long as my best informant is still in prison.”

The member they had caught in the office attack.

“On second thought...” the boss said after a short pause. “Maybe we can use him to find the real Prophesied One.”

Yunho began to shake in earnest. He didn’t know what that entailed but it sounded like more torture and more lightning.

The woman continued to explain to the gangsters. “He works at the Illusion Post, where we know our enemy lies in wait. Surely he and his friends will come for him.”

“And...” the taller spirit asked hesitantly. “Are we to let them?”

There was another pause before the woman’s voice sounded closer to his face, and he imagined her leaning forward to inspect it again. 

“Relax our security. Let’s just see what happens.”

With that, all three of them left Yunho to his own devices, a cold basement room, his stinging body, and the blindfold that cut him off from the world.

He was about to become bait. And there was nothing he could do about it.

___

“We can’t just leave Yunho behind!” Mingi answered as if he’d somehow read Seonghwa and Yeosang’s minds, his voice wavering and causing Jongho to place a steady hand on his shoulder.

“But I can’t risk losing any more of you,” Seonghwa repeated from earlier, his gaze pleading. 

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Wooyoung interjected, his expression hardening. “If we don’t take action immediately, we could risk losing Yunho.” Jongho tightened his grip on Mingi. “We could cause even more trouble for ourselves.” San stole a glance at the ceiling, thinking of a peacefully unaware Hongjoong. “And you could end up losing us too.” 

Seonghwa hesitated and Yeosang put his foot down. “We _have_ to go save Yunho now, Hwa.” Or what kind of friends — _family_ , would they be?

The eldest stiffened and he peered around the group before slowly nodding in agreement. “But not all of you. We have to keep the Post running.”

“Of course. Which is why I nominate myself and Wooyoung to stay behind and help.” San supplied and Wooyoung turned to him like he’d just grown a second head. Yeosang and Jongho couldn’t help but let a grin curl their lips, knowing well that Wooyoung was passionate about wanting to save Yunho.

“I’ll take Mingi and Jongho then.” Yeosang resolved, turning to meet the pair who were already moving swiftly towards the door. The clock on the wall carelessly ate away their precious time. 

“Please be safe and don’t stay away longer than you have to. Come back soon.” Seonghwa instructed warily, fixing the collar of Mingi’s coat to help relieve some stress. Yeosang sighed, managing to grab Seonghwa’s hand after a while and give it a comforting squeeze.

“We will,” the kitsune reassured. “Take care of Hongjoong. And if he asks why we’re not here later, make up some excuse for us.”

Seonghwa and the others nodded in understanding and with a bell chime, the trio were enveloped by the cool night once more. 

“I can take the lead.” Jongho volunteered, sauntering right.

“You have an idea of where the headquarters might be?” Yeosang asked, sharing a look of surprise with Mingi.

“Something like that,” the spirit chuckled. “Come on.” And in no time, they were off again, racing under the moon and stars.

They weaved through the dead streets, ducking in and out of small pools of lamplight as they travelled towards one of the city’s more cluttered, rundown districts. There, the pungent potion smoke that Seonghwa despised so flowed endlessly even in the late night, lacing some of the narrow corridors in a thin layer of fog. 

Mingi’s grim expression, which he had worn since they had left the Post, only seemed to deepen — the fact hardly going unnoticed by Yeosang as he checked over his shoulder periodically. 

When they arrived on a less cluttered alleyway, the kitsune fell in alongside Mingi. “Are you alright?” He inquired softly.

The delivery boy seemed to snap out of a trance, looking obliviously at Yeosang before nodding. The kitsune frowned and admitted, “You don’t look alright to me.” Mingi winced. “You can tell me if there’s anything bothering you.” 

The pair held their breath in unison as they approached a patch of smoke. Mingi pressed his lips into a fine line as they passed through and quietly confessed on the other side, “What if I’m not ready to save Yunho? What if my powers go haywire or barely work?” 

Yeosang grinned sadly, knowing that Yunho must’ve dealt with Mingi’s self doubts too during their training sessions. “But things have been going well, haven’t they?” 

“Yunho tells me so.” Mingi admitted. 

“Then you have nothing to fret over. Just remember what Yunho taught you and you’ll be fine,” Yeosang reassured, his ears perking as an idea struck him. “Think of this as an opportunity to show him all you’ve learned.” _Make him proud as a teacher._

Mingi took a breath, contemplating Yeosang’s words and allowing a small grin to spread across his face. He nodded with a drop of newfound enthusiasm and the kitsune allowed himself to share this moment of joy. 

Though it didn’t last for long, as Jongho slowed as they neared the end of the corridor. 

“Stay low.” He whispered, crouching down and taking shelter behind some crates stacked to one side of the alleyway’s entrance. Yeosang and Mingi followed suit, the latter whispering, “What are we doing?”

Jongho peeked his head over the crates and motioned the others up with him. He was fixated on what could pass for an ordinary alleyway a few paces away; except, it opened perpendicular to the back of a building. On the visible wall, they could spot half of a rune pattern printed on the weathered stone. 

Yeosang and Mingi tried their best to decipher it, but found themselves going in circles. It made almost no rhyme or reason, but somehow Jongho was able to shed a little light.

“It’s a rune pattern for a temporary door that can only be opened by certain people.”

They scanned their surroundings and spotted a small strand of shide hanging above the alleyway’s entrance. Lightning shaped paper streamers. 

Something clicked into place. “The kaminari-gumi?” Yeosang hissed astonishedly.

Jongho nodded, explaining, “I once met with one of their lower members here. They greeted me by appearing through that very wall and when I asked where it led, they said no place important.” Which _obviously_ meant it led to someplace important.

“You think it could be a direct link to their headquarters?” Mingi mused, glaring at the rune door as if he had a vendetta against it. 

Jongho nodded. “It’s our best bet, but I don’t know how often this door is in use. If the kaminari-gumi are as large as Seonghwa says, who knows when they’ll use this door next.” He sighed, sinking behind the crates.

“We’re waiting for it anyway,” Yeosang hummed, sitting back down beside Jongho and Mingi. “No matter how long it takes.” He said that last bit trying to fight back a yawn — poorly, at that.

“Should we take turns keeping lookout? That way we can get some sleep and keep an eye on the door.” Mingi asked, to which Yeosang nodded immediately and caused Jongho to snicker in amusement.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Jongho offered, Mingi promptly calling the second, observing Yeosang attempting to comfortably curl up against the alleyway wall. 

“Wake me up when it’s time to switch.” Mingi whispered as he settled in beside Yeosang. The kitsune’s head promptly fell onto his shoulder unannounced with a tiny purr, sooning morphing into tiny snores. 

“Will do.” 

___

_“If he loved you, why did he leave you?”_

Hongjoong caught his breath and met eyes with the boy staring him down.

The fire-breathing bullies had ambushed him on his mail route and cornered him into an alleyway.

His threats that Dad would punish them for their actions were empty now. The spirit was gone and everyone knew it.

“I-I don’t...” his mouth went dry as he was forced to think about it. He didn’t know why, and it had been haunting him since the morning he woke up in the office, a ward of the postmaster.

Of course his father loved him, he had said so himself. _Of course_ he loved him...

“What do you want from me?” Hongjoong squared his shoulders and met his bully in the eye, rubbing an arm that was sore from being gripped so tightly.

The bigger boy simply laughed and his companions followed suit, wrestling Hongjoong’s delivery bag away from him and kicking him back into the road.

“This stuff is pretty important, isn’t it?” One of them teased, sending a flame into the papers and then giggling when Hongjoong shrieked in protest.

“No, please, don’t do that,” he begged, not even caring that he was crying in front of them. He was in big trouble if his mail was damaged.

When he tried to run over to the bag to put the fire out, the ringleader pushed him back against the wall and held a flame to his face.

Now he could barely breathe without fear of being scarred. The laughter surrounding him filled his ears and black burned envelopes crumbled to ash all around him. Something broke inside.

“Aw, were you writing to him?” The leader asked with a mock pout. “Did you really think he’d answer? He left you for a reason.”

The boy leaned closer, revelled in his position of power, and whispered his poison.

“You’re weak.”

Hongjoong didn’t care if he hurt himself, he was angry. Struggling against the bullies with unexpected strength, he shoved the restraining arms off of him and started swinging. Flames fizzled out.

Like a cloud covering the sun, a sudden darkness invaded the alleyway, thunderous noise swallowing the group.

Hongjoong was angry, angrier than he’d ever felt before. And when he opened his eyes, he was the only one standing.

Everyone else was dead around him.

With a jolt, Hongjoong awoke, completely rigid in his bed while the memory of his dream washed over him.

No, it was all wrong.

Usually, Yeosang had appeared and came to his rescue, scaring the boys off with simply the threat of his claws and then scolding Hongjoong for wandering too far away.

The lightning flash of death and the world exploding around him were completely new.

Shaking his head and turning over onto his side, he was greeted with another shock—one that had him sitting up so fast, he fell out of the bed and brought half the objects on the bedside table with him.

The dark mark.

It had grown again.

Groaning quietly and hoping all the noise somehow hadn’t awoken his sleeping roommate, he put the lamp and alarm clock back where they belonged and his hands landed on a broken picture frame.

The photograph of him and his father was a bit wrinkled but with a new frame, it would be alright.

Reaching past invisible shards until his hands landed on his glasses, Hongjoong pushed them onto his face and quickly cleaned up the rest of the mess.

Seonghwa rolled over and kept snoring.

Tiptoeing out and scrambling down to the bathroom once dressed, Hongjoong locked the door behind him and began to run faucet water over the black smudge. It was worth a shot, even as much as he knew it was probably magical. It couldn’t just stay there, he would never be able to hide it if it kept growing.

It was infecting everything.

His body, his mind, his dreams.

The skin was quickly reddening from his harshness but Hongjoong ignored it and found a cloth to scrub with.

He didn’t care if he had to slough off a whole layer of skin; the mark had to go.

Soon his fingers were slippery from the flowing water and blood and still his efforts had been completely fruitless.

He bit his lip to keep from making noise, and angry red skin became blurred through frustrated tears. If he just kept scrubbing, it would go away... it _had_ to.

Finally throwing the cloth back in the basin and sinking to the floor, Hongjoong felt panic begin to build again. The mark was still there and now it hurt. He removed his glasses and rubbed his hands across his face.

What would happen if he couldn’t stop this? What would happen if someone found it?

But if he found out where the mark had come from and forced the offender to remove it, maybe he wouldn’t be tiptoeing all over the office, terrified someone would discover his secret.

He had been cursed. There was no other explanation. He had been cursed and he had an idea who had done it.

With another tentative scan of the office, Hongjoong collected his things and walked out into the early morning sunshine.

He had an emergency errand to run.

___

Mingi squinted against the bright light, his attention flitting between his sleeping members and the dormant rune door. All night long, the trio circulated through their rotations of watching and listening for the door before rousing the next person to take over. 

Each member held onto a shred of hope that they would be lucky enough to witness the door unlock, but it never happened.

Mingi couldn’t help but feel dread coil in his stomach as he thought back to last night, to Yunho. What if they were wasting precious time by lazing around here?

At that moment, the delivery boy decided to rouse Yeosang and Jongho to discuss what their next move should be. The pair groaned at the sunlight creeping up over the horizon. “What time is it?” Jongho grumbled. 

“Early,” Mingi replied, laconic.

Well, that much was obvious to Jongho. Yeosang gave the spirit a sleepy grin, amusement dancing in his gaze. “Did the door open?”

“No, but it’s why I woke you two up,” Mingi admitted, Jongho and Yeosang sharing a confused glance. “Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough for this door to open? Jongho mentioned how the kaminari-gumi could have multiple rune doors, some that aren’t in frequent use. What if something happened to Yunho by now?” 

Yeosang felt his shoulders sag. “But we don’t know where any other rune doors or entrances are located.” 

“Then we’ll just look for more shide,” Mingi gestured over the top of the crates, where a strand of lightning papers was knowingly hung. “If this door is marked, that means others could be too.”

Jongho, who had been quietly racking through his mind, recalled, “I believe I saw some more strings of shide down other alleyways nearby.”

Mingi perked up and looked at Yeosang with round eyes. The kitsune pursed his lips and directed to no one in particular, wondered aloud, “Are we really abandoning this stakeout? It hasn’t been that long…”

Yet, it looked like Mingi already made up his mind and Jongho wasn’t giving any objection to the idea — meaning Yeosang could only nod along reluctantly as the pair of delivery boys sprung on their feet.

As they began to leave, a crackle suddenly echoed from nearby. Yeosang’s ears shot straight up and Mingi and Jongho whipped around in surprise. 

The kitsune scrambled back, peering over the crates and across the alleyway just in time to see a corrupt spirit slink out of a newly formed hole in the wall. Mingi and Jongho squeezed in beside Yeosang to watch in fascination as the spirit drifted down the street, oblivious to their watchful eyes. 

A glimpse of a familiar tattoo was barely caught.

And to think, they almost abandoned the rune door.

Without saying a word, the trio shot out from behind their hiding spot and passed through the door before it had the opportunity to close. On the other side, they were met with a long dimly lit hallway that was eerily quiet.

It appeared gray and harmless, but the group knew better than that. After all, they supposedly just infiltrated a highly secretive yakuza headquarters! 

Which meant they couldn’t update the Post about their current location as they didn’t know exactly where they were. The rune door could’ve transported them anywhere in the city, or even outside of it. 

A foreboding air settled between them. Yeosang, Mingi and Jongho didn’t know what to do next.

___

Because it was too confusing to try to find Mirae’s place from the post office, Hongjoong detoured through the market until he remembered the route he took two days ago when he first sought out the prophetess.

The early morning rays were hitting storefronts and street signs with an array of sunrise-tinted hues and Hongjoong let his walk through the slowly waking city calm him down.

Though he could be sure he had the right address, his arrival on Mirae’s street gave him a sinking feeling. He counted the house numbers several times over but every time he reached where her house should be, and it was just gone, like it had never existed. The next one was there instead.

_How could the entire building just up and disappear?_

Hongjoong knocked on the door of the neighbouring house and gritted his teeth as the answering spirit pushed up his glasses and admitted he didn’t know where the building went. Even the mailbox was gone.

“The witch who lived next door was crazy,” he whispered, clearing his throat and shrugging his shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she blasted herself into another dimension.”

It was like an elevator that skipped the thirteenth floor. Bad luck.

Hongjoong thanked the disheveled student and began the trek past the park where couples picnicked under the cherry blossom trees and back to the market. There was no finding Mirae now. She didn’t want to be found.

Deciding it was best to avoid a wasted trip, he stopped in the market again for some office supplies. It would be less suspicious if he returned from his outing with something to show for it.

Eyes glazed over, he thanked the shop owner and turned to follow the phone lines home.

One of these days, he was going to have to come clean.

When the alarm clock abruptly shook Seonghwa out of sleep, he waited a few minutes in case Hongjoong was taking care of it to slide down reluctantly to the floor and tinker with the thing until it shut up. They didn’t normally use it, what with Yeosang being their own personal alarm clock.

When one of the tiny gears fell to the floor, Seonghwa turned to Hongjoong’s bed and quipped, “I think I broke it, mind taking a look?”

Instantly his eyes blew wide and he dropped the clock. Hongjoong wasn’t there. Swallowing harshly and holding onto hope that he had simply woken up early, Seonghwa threw on his clothes and rushed to the office, taking the stairs two at a time.

Wooyoung and San looked up from their oatmeal when he reached the breakroom, eyes red from lack of any real sleep. “What’s going on?” Wooyoung pushed after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s-- is Hongjoong down here?” Seonghwa asked desperately, scanning the other rooms quickly and feeling something settle in the pit of his stomach.

In unison, the spirits shook their heads. “He isn’t in bed?” San hissed, oatmeal forgotten. “You’re saying we have _two_ members missing?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Seonghwa choked out, beginning to panic. “Yeosang’s going to kill me… I _lost_ him. I lost Hongjoong.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Wooyoung insisted, getting to his feet. “Where could he have gone?”

Before any of them could say another word, the front door swung open and the familiar chime of the bell tinkled into the room. A moment later, Hongjoong appeared in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” he asked obliviously when everyone’s stares landed on him. Seonghwa broke out into a sweat.

“Nothing,” Wooyoung shrugged, plopping back down in his chair like he had simply been stretching, not preparing to form a search party. “Just breakfast.”

Hongjoong adjusted the bags he was carrying and peeked in the doorways of the other rooms. “Where’s everyone else? We should be opening soon.”

Seonghwa froze. He had really expected them to be back by now, a recovered Yunho in tow if things had gone well. “Out… starting on the mail early…”

“Starting on _yesterday’s_ mail early?” Hongjoong scoffed with a raised eyebrow.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Seonghwa’s mouth worked uselessly for a moment before Hongjoong turned, muttering that he had better just ask Yeosang. “Yeosang switched places with me!” He snapped quickly, and it was only a half-lie. He _had_ technically asked him to watch the office in his absence.

“Why?” Hongjoong tilted his head curiously. “I wasn’t informed.”

“He just… something came up last minute,” Seonghwa fumbled for a feasible excuse. “He went out to take care of some things.”  
  
Hongjoong looked like he bought it, but Seonghwa didn’t give him a chance to think it over, lurching forward and reaching for the bags. “Let me help you with that.”

The moment Seonghwa’s hand made contact with his arm, Hongjoong yelled, “No!” Whether from pain or surprise at being touched so suddenly, he cried out and jerked back.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me…” he gasped, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Wooyoung and San paused where they had been cleaning up the food.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said softly, letting go and checking Hongjoong over quickly. Faint traces of bruising were still present on his neck. It hadn’t been very long since the gang attack.  
  
So Seonghwa retreated, recognising that glimmer of fear in his eyes. He had put it in the eyes of many victims himself as heir to the tachi-kai before his desertion of the gang. 

And now that he had sworn not to let it happen again, Seonghwa found himself carefully monitoring the expressions on Hongjoong’s face to see if he had caused any serious harm. For a moment, he looked like a cornered animal before the familiar mask of coolness came over him reflexively. Hongjoong had always been a deer in the headlights.

But this was the Hongjoong who gave marketplace barterers a run for their money when they tried to rip him off, the one who sat calmly sipping his tea when stray spells and floating objects whizzed back and forth around him.

He trusted his team not to hurt him, they could at least oblige. Distantly, both were aware of Wooyoung and San resuming their activities.

“Are you hurt?” Finally Seonghwa directed his eyes to the arm he had grabbed. Peeking out from under a sleeve was a large red abrasion Hongjoong was clutching protectively. “What’s this?”

“Um… I’m fine. It’s just a road rash.”

“What? Why? Did someone push you?”

“Seonghwa, it’s nothing,” Hongjoong insisted, and he was very set on not talking about it from the way his jaw was set and his shoulders were tense. “Now, let’s get this post office open.”

“Show us the goods!” San yelled over his shoulder as he unlocked the doors. Hongjoong obliged.

“Stationery, some paints, washi tape, new ink ribbons for the typewriters, and paper clips,” he announced, showing off each item as it was oohed and ahhed over. “I was thinking of making some new designs for customized postage stamps, if we all agree the customers will like it.” 

While he sketched them up for the eager spirit pair, Seonghwa fumbled around the desk, trying to put the new supplies in their homes. He was reminded why he didn’t usually claim desk duty. He had no idea what he was doing. But still…

“If you still aren’t feeling well, I can take your duties,” he reminded Hongjoong. It was a kind gesture first and foremost, but if it gave him an opportunity to keep a lookout for the rescue team as well without worrying about Hongjoong’s inevitable questions, so much the better.

“No offense, but you have no idea what you’re doing and I’d rather keep you on package sorting or the filing project,” Hongjoong scoffed, pulling the magic book out of his hands. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

“He’s right,” Wooyoung giggled. “That’s Yeosang’s job.” Immediately, he had to duck a roll of washi tape that was chucked at him for his teasing. 

“And what’s keeping you from doing _your_ job?” Hongjoong retorted, wielding another roll.

“Actually, we do need your help on something,” San chuckled and came to Wooyoung’s defense, leading the postmaster to the sorting room where a massive letter twice his height was propped between sorting shelves. “We can’t figure out how to shrink it, but we don’t want to charge the patron extra for delivery… any suggestions?”

Seonghwa sighed with relief behind the group. This should be enough to keep them occupied, while he glanced out the window and wondered how the other half of their team was faring.

___

Quiet as a mouse, Jongho slinked through the eerie hallways of the headquarters, hands balled into preemptive fists. A few minutes earlier, the group had hastily decided to split up and cover more ground; they had found a hidden, winding staircase a short distance away from their entrance point.   
  
Yeosang called searching the upper levels and Mingi dared to scour the lower levels, leaving Jongho with the middle levels to explore. And so far, he didn’t find anything worthy of real interest.

It was only dingy hallway after dingy hallway of closed doors, too silent to be harboring any scared victims. But that didn’t mean Yunho wasn’t potentially behind one of them.

So every few hallways, Jongho would stop and go down one, to ease his paranoia and intently listen for whispers beyond the walls. For white noise of every kind — metal clinking, lights humming, papers shuffling — anything that made his skin prick. 

He would jangle doorknobs then, knowing that they would be securely locked, but still. It didn’t hurt to try, to catch a glimpse at what the kaminari-gumi was conducting under the city’s noses. 

They seemed like an almost impenetrable force — the rune door opening was a coincidence, sheer luck. And clearly, that same luck didn’t seem to carry over when Jongho repeatedly attempted (and failed) at busting open a whole other operation at every door. 

Turning to peer down the next hallway, Jongho suddenly felt his heart lurch in his chest. A few paces away stood a lonely spirit, waiting impatiently in front of a door. He shouldn’t be surprised to see one of the kaminari-gumi’s members; it was inevitable that they’d cross paths at some point.

Yet that didn’t make the spirit suddenly turning to look at Jongho without any indication easier to handle. Talk about bad timing.

The two stared for a moment, combing over one another’s features and at the same time, unanimously realized: _I know you_. 

A glint of amusement flared in the spirit’s eyes and it raised a hand to knock on the door in front of it. Jongho was quicker to realize his fault though, and darted towards the spirit, dragging it down the hallway before its knuckle could brush the surface. 

Jongho pushed the spirit to a wall, forearm strongly spanning across the breadth of its chest while the other arm was readily raised in a fist. The hold seemed easy to wriggle out of with a little effort, but Jongho was both physically and magically strong — his arm probably felt like a ton of bricks now. 

The spirit smirked. “I’m surprised you recognized me,” its voice still sounded like a serpent, the elongated consents making Jongho queasy with remembrance. “It has been quite some time-”

“I think you know why I’m here.” Jongho cut in brazenly, finding it laughable that the spirit thought he forgot. As if Jongho could ever forget the very person who gave him false information regarding the whereabouts of his lord’s killer. 

The very same information that had nearly cost Hongjoong’s life. 

“Ah, I’m sure it has something to do with that lord of yours, yes? Has the search gone well?” The spirit guessed, tittering as Jongho’s gaze hardened. “No? Then what else could you be here for?”

“Where is he?” He bit out, his fist tightening as a silent threat. The spirit with its horrible snake-like voice only giggled more, shaking its head with crinkled eyes.

“I don’t know who you’re referring to! They don’t tell me everything, you know…”

Jongho snorted, pressing the spirit harder against the wall. The flimsy drywall seemed to cave underneath the inhuman amounts of force he was exerting. 

“Or, or! Maybe I _do_ know who you’re referring to!” The spirit admitted when its face started to look rather comical. “If you’d describe him to me, then I’m sure I can point you in the right direction!”

Jongho hesitated, thinking about what this spirit had done to him in the past in terms of sharing information. But the spirit was merely a lackey under those who had true power and it looked like things hadn’t changed since then. 

So, Jongho relieved some of the power from his forearm, just enough to make the spirit take in a sickening hiss of air. 

“A tall male with blonde hair wearing office clothes.” He described in monotone, watching the gears slowly turn in the spirit’s head. It didn’t take long for a lightbulb to go off, evident by the sly upturn of its lips. 

“I think I may have seen him in passing. He was being dragged to the lower levels.” The spirit replied coolly, his inflection indicating neither truthfulness or falsehood. Jongho felt an irritated growl rise in his throat. 

“And what exactly is in the lower levels?” He pressed, trying hard not to let his fist suddenly go flying and cause an unwanted scene. 

“All sorts of things. But they’re better left unsaid.” That was enough to make Jongho scoff and look back down the hallway, mentally retracing his steps towards the staircase. He could only hope that Mingi wasn’t struggling against a barrage of kaminari-gumi members at this very moment.

“Now that I’ve given you the information, would you mind letting me go? I have a meeting to attend to just right over there,” the spirit complained, its voice never getting easier to digest hearing. “They’d be awfully angry if I was any more late.”

“On the condition that you won’t tell them I’m here.” It should’ve been a question, but Jongho made it sound like a demand, restoring the same crushing weight on the spirit’s chest to really hammer it home. 

The spirit could only nod, eagerly slipping away as soon as Jongho relinquished it from its prison against the wall. He watched the spirit stumble away, rubbing its upper chest and sending agitated glares over its shoulder, hissing quietly.

Jongho couldn’t help but notice though, that something about the spirit seemed overly familiar. And it wasn’t because they met once before, but maybe… they met even before then.

It was the serpent voice that was too distinguishable to erase from memory. Jongho heard it somewhere else, he was sure of it. 

Watching the spirit teeter towards the door, his mind began racing to figure out _where had they met before?_

And suddenly, it came in the form of a pierce to the abdomen, followed by an unnatural twist. The echo of a distant battlefield raged in Jongho’s ears, along with a sinister whisper of failure and it autonomously propelled him forward with a familiar gusto. 

The spirit raised its hand again, prepping to knock when Jongho seized its wrist. It turned to him with a blank expression, asking in a toneless hiss, “What now?”

“You wanted to know how my search has gone?” Jongho recalled with a darkened stare. 

The spirit raised a brow. “I thought it’d only be appropriate to ask,” and that slight upturn of its lips took form again. “So, how _has_ your search gone?” 

“Poorly. Until now.”

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze until the spirit broke the trance with a soft chuckle. It shook free of Jongho’s grasp and sighed. “That’s quite an accusation you’re making there. Are you sure you can defend yourself?” _This time_ , went unsaid. 

Jongho felt anger fester inside of him and as he sensed the spirit would insult his lord next, he barked, “I’m positive” — and bit immediately after. 

___

The steps of the staircase were slightly creaky, and Yeosang took his time, being careful not to be caught. He was confident he could defend himself against one or two stray spirits, but a big showdown at this phase of the plan could attract attention and jeopardize the rescue mission altogether. 

Quickly, the kitsune discovered the upper levels were much different than the lower ones. The twisted brass and spurts of steam decorating the dark hallways were gone, and instead simple wood and clean white screens filled the space, much more reminiscent of a plain but comfortable living space.

This was where the boss worked.

Perfectly silent and careful not to let his shadow flash through any of the screens, Yeosang crept through the hallway, peeking under sliding doors and through window shades. The office area was suspiciously abandoned, a sign the kitsune hoped was indicative of their business elsewhere, not their anticipation of a breakin.

As expected, the main office was at the end of the hall in the largest space. After listening intently through his sensitive ears to confirm it was empty, Yeosang slid the door open and let himself in.

The room was sparsely but tastefully decorated with plants, furniture, lanterns, hanging calligraphy, and even a few cushions arranged around a small tea table. The main feature behind the large oak desk was a painting of a couple- decked out in expensive clothes and jewelry and looking incredibly powerful- presumably the leading family of the kaminari-gumi. Being such a secretive clan, it was no surprise Yeosang had never seen them before, but as he looked more closely, the couple began to remind him of someone he knew but couldn’t think of at the moment. The slope of the man’s nose, the curve of the woman’s smile…

_Focus, Yeosang._

Time was ticking away and he hadn’t found anything leading to Yunho yet. 

The most obvious potential goldmine was the desk, and since it was clean save for some arbitrary paperweights and neatly organized office supplies, that meant rifling through the drawers.

The contents of the first drawer seemed random; notepads with coded messages and vaguely scrawled shipment orders, photographs of gang members and their tattoos, maps of the city broken into territories, and a mysterious letter sealed shut with the return address blacked out. Before he could break into it and read what the yakuza bosses were trying so desperately to hide, noises in the hallway sent him hiding under the desk.

“There’s a disturbance on the lower levels!”

The harried voice of a lower ranking spirit reporting to its senior, no doubt.

“Is it being handled?” a cool feminine voice responded. She sounded incredibly close to the head office, so Yeosang crept behind the door, anticipating her entering the room.

“It’s being handled ma’am, but we don’t know how many of them there are. It may be prudent to lockdown the facility from any more pocket portals.”

“Is that all?” The woman ground out, clearly not happy about being lectured.

The reporting spirit stuttered an apology and wisped away, and Yeosang held his breath as the remaining voice muttered about insubordination and moved closer.

Just as he’d anticipated, she opened the door to the office. So this must be the wife of the kaminari-gumi boss, apparently equal in power and influence to her husband. 

Yeosang had a split second window to slip out unnoticed behind her while she moved into the room, and lighter than a feather, he did so.

Heart pounding with adrenaline, he flew back down the hall, following the direction the other spirit had gone, and breathed a sigh of relief.

But he relaxed too soon.

In his brief moment of celebration, his foot landed on a squeaky board.

Horrified, Yeosang turned to see the woman from the painting at the end of the hall, watching him retreat with a fire in her eyes.

Now she had seen him.

___

Mingi barely had time to skid around the corner as a flash of lightning shot past him. The furious footsteps of his pursuers pounded behind him and out of sudden desperation, he latched onto the nearest door and darted inside. The commotion stopped nearby, one of the spirits letting out a snort of distress. 

“Spread out! He can’t have gone far.” 

Mingi held his breath against the door as a chorus of acknowledging grunts and footsteps echoed all around him.

In the few minutes he’d been scouting the dingy lower levels, he’d already identified the room that Yunho was holed up in, but at the cost of alerting the spirits guarding it. 

The delivery boy let out a frustrated sigh and began to recollect himself. 

The dark room he was concealed in smelled strangely dense and tart, but he didn’t give it too much thought. Instead, Mingi decided to reflect and review on what Yunho had taught him over their numerous training sessions. 

Once he was able to properly let go of his past, they transitioned to various exercises to help build a strong foundation and off of it, magical strength. It was hard work, almost never smooth sailing, but some days were certainly easier than others. 

“The most important thing is not to overthink it,” Mingi recalled Yunho instructing him one sunset in the midst of an alleyway target practice. Glass bottles and empty cans were lined up, unharmed. “Fire should feel wild and effortless. It should come easily from within.” 

Mingi glanced down at his arm where the malicious rune once painted his skin, slowly going through the steps Yunho made him memorize. (“But you shouldn’t always rely on them! Soon, you’ll move past listing them off.”)

And to no real surprise, a small flame conjured from his fingertips. It was a warm sign of hope in the cold, unfamiliar room that maybe Mingi could pull this off. Just maybe. 

_“The most important thing is not to overthink it.”_

He took in a low breath, channeling all of his energy to his arms as he reached for the door handle. Something stirred there.

An old friend that Mingi hadn’t been able to consistently summon, now shedding its remaining drops of dormancy. 

His mind barreled through the last of the steps and promptly leapt without looking, bursting from the room in a flurry of newfound determination. 

And immediately, he was overtaken by astonishment.

A corrupt spirit was standing there, appearing equally bewildered about the sudden discovery of the delivery boy. 

It prepared to alert the others, but Mingi was faster. He raised a hand towards the spirit- 

_“It should come easily from within.”_

Everything seemed to click as a sensation equivalent to that of a volcanic eruption travelled from the pits of his stomach to his arm and outwards from his palm. At least, that’s what he expected to happen. 

Rather, a slender dragon slithered out from under his sleeve and unhinged its jaws to spew out the building flames.

Mingi watched in shock and fascination and a wave of déjà vu crashed over him. He felt like a kid again, harnessing that same effortlessness without much exertion. 

The spirit let out a surprised yelp as fire swiftly engulfed it and the delivery boy used this opportunity to make a break for it. Still, he could very well gawk over himself for the next minute. 

He flew through the hallways, backtracking to where Yunho resided and charring anyone that stood in his way. The dragon on his opposite arm soon awoke and while the large one on his back didn’t rise, Mingi could feel it buzzing anticipatingly. 

Eventually, he made it to Yunho’s room, the once intimidating spirit guards retreating with his dragons spitting flames after them. Then, the twin dragons melted away the lock in a matter of seconds and Mingi kicked open the door, achievement ringing through the air.

“Yunho!”

There was a figure slumped on a chair in the limelight. Mingi darted forward, taking in the disheveled and trembling state of his blindfolded friend. His heart squeezed as he slowly extended a hand forward, hating how Yunho flinched at his touch. 

“Who are you?” His voice cracked cautiously. 

“It’s me, Mingi.” He dared to bring his hand behind Yunho’s head and undo the blindfold, ignoring the sharp breath his friend drew.

When Mingi removed the cloth, he could see how red and puffy Yunho’s eyes looked and how much fear they held. Yunho blinked at him a few times, almost in disbelief, scanning the room to regain his senses. 

“How did you find me…?” Yunho mumbled, watching as Mingi went behind him to untie the bonds. 

“We had a good hunch.” Mingi replied. 

“What about the spirits?” He pressed tentatively. 

“Don’t worry. I took care of them.” Mingi reappeared in his vision, scratching one of the dragon’s heads and managing a small grin. Yunho waited a moment for the information to fully process, his brain still fried from the electrifying torture earlier — but when it finally did, pride began to swell in his chest. 

But it was short lived as an agonized yell and the frantic scuttle of footsteps disturbed the air.

“We’ll discuss this later.” Yunho promised hoarsely as Mingi helped him get to his wobbly feet. With an arm slung around Mingi’s shoulders, they made a mad dash for the exit. 

Lightning crackled threateningly behind them. 

This wasn’t going to be pretty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a bit of a hiatus but we came back with a long chapter!! Please leave any comments, questions, theories, or keysmashes and thanks for sticking with it!
> 
> Also HAPPY BIRTHDAY HONGJOONG 🎉!


	9. All Aboard to Escape the Headlines

When they crossed blades, Jongho caught and held the glare of the spirit. In its eyes gleamed the same fire that Jongho remembered seeing before his first death, now years removed from that warrior’s conflict.

Last time he’d seen him he hadn’t realised the spirit was his and his lord’s killer and had been convinced by this coward that his quest for vengeance must lead to the Illusion Post, yet here he was hiding in plain sight, in his foolish pride only casting a weak disguise spell.

Somehow he had skulked the world all these years, for all spirits must eventually pass on one way or another, though some like this murderer clung to their miserable lives through various means.

He was going to pay for everything he had done, and if it took a battle in broad daylight Jongho didn’t care.

It was his purpose, his entire identity, to rid the world of this snake.

Yunho would have to wait a little longer.

In a swift motion, the spirit broke the standoff and wriggled out of Jongho’s grip. 

“You have become weakened by entangling with them,” the spirit sneered, referring to the glow of Jongho’s binding spells. Of course now that he had a physical body, the pure force of his power needed a conduit  —  the runes. Expertly, Jongho summoned a spear and leapt at the spirit.

“Why did you send me there?” He demanded, chasing after the spirit as it ducked into another hallway. “It would’ve made infinitely more sense to blame a rival clan. The Illusion Post did nothing to you, why frame them?”

“Just as you’ve sought your enemy for years, so have we searched for ours,” came the vague response. Still, the spirit was trying to escape.

“How dare you,” Jongho growled, thrusting his weapon forward and just missing as the spirit danced away. “And you claim to be honourable. A disgrace.” And a disgrace to all warriors, Jongho thought.

Sensing his growing ire, the spirit glanced around and quickly opened a portal, thinking to escape. 

Without thinking, Jongho followed him through.

The other side was the main square, government buildings and offices all around, as well as the most famous tourist attractions their city could boast. As much as Jongho knew he was completely off-quest and likely walking straight into a trap, he was a strong believer in justice, in things being balanced as they should be, and this spirit was not escaping him again.

“A duel!” He yelled across the courtyard as the spirit attempted to run away. The entire vicinity had heard his challenge, the spirit had no choice but to take it up.

Pricking with anger, it again summoned a sword and met Jongho head on for the last time. Jongho smirked, and confidently swept his weapon again.

The gang member managed to avoid the blow but stumbled into an innocent civilian, giving Jongho time to strike again.

“The world is watching, snake,” Jongho taunted as his spear swept the spirit’s feet from under him. “Tell them what you did. Tell them what you are.”

“You were a conceited little blockhead,” the spirit returned, flipping backwards and easily regaining its footing. “You deserve the lesson you were taught.”

“The Council of Lords trusted you!” Jongho yelled, still as precise as ever as he twirled the spear overhead and thrust it down powerfully.

The spirit managed to parry and shifted his weight forwards again to return the blow. “That was their mistake. War was inevitable and had they seen it sooner they would not have ended up on the wrong side.”

Above them, Jongho could hear the wing beats of curious karura-hybrids, always on the lookout for a juicy story. “It looks to me like you’re on the wrong side,” he hissed, dodging the sharp blade of the spirit’s dagger and catching him off guard, the spear pinning him to the ground. “A deserter, crawling away from the very battle you caused, after betraying the lords you claimed to respect and daring to slay me without a fair fight. You deserve so much worse than what’s coming.”

He summoned a deathly amount of energy to his fist and raised it to bring it down on the spirit’s head.

“Wait!” The spirit screamed, and to his own chagrin, Jongho paused. “If you kill me, your life will end too,” he scrambled to say. “Y-You only became a spirit out of the need for revenge, correct?”

Jongho didn’t answer but narrowed his eyes. It was true, if not for the welling up of vengeance inside him at the twisting of the sword, the moment of his death, he would have peacefully passed. Instead his years of searching focused on one goal, a goal only recently altered by his joining the post office team.

“Kill me, and either you’ll cease to exist or we’ll leave this realm together,” the spirit continued to whisper, temptation dripping from its lips. “Perhaps to torment each other for eternity while your shiny new body lays here, lifeless, in the courtyard. Hmm, wouldn’t that be a lovely gift for your friends to find?”

Jongho squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think.

Would his connection with them, his members, the post office, and his newfound life, stand the ultimate test? Would they tether him to the things of this world?

“I have faith,” Jongho finally growled back, flexing his fist again and bringing it down. 

He had found a new purpose.

___

When Wooyoung and San felt something twinge within them, they only had half the mind to worry about it. There were more important things that required their attention first. 

Without Yeosang helping at the Post, the normal afternoon rush felt more chaotic than usual. Seonghwa tentatively filled in for the kitsune  —  that meant running packages into the sorting room and organizing the spellbound ones.

There was hardly a time Hongjoong wasn’t glued to the front desk and Seonghwa couldn’t help but feel guilty as he moved onto sorting some packages.

“Hwa, you missed a letter.” San pointed out whilst casting a spell. Senghwa hummed and shifted a few packages before finding an envelope sticking out from underneath. 

“Oh, I didn’t even see that...” He replied with a sigh, reading the address before tucking it into one of the shelves. “I don’t understand how you guys do it. So efficiently.”

“You just grow used to it after a while,” Wooyoung told him, passing a freshly sealed package to San to strengthen. “Don’t make me remind you of our first few weeks working together as a team.” 

Seonghwa cackled and San hurriedly finished to seal the package, shoving it in toward the eldest. “Oh, how could I forget! Those first few weeks were  _ really  _ magical, especially when San-”

“I thought we swore never to mention that again!” San cried, bouncing embarrassedly on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, but it’s too funny not to mention it again.” Wooyoung sealed the next package with a snicker and slid it over. 

Seonghwa smiled as he sorted the next few pieces of postage, adding in all seriousness, “We should really consider binding everything in the office next time.”

San shot him a look that silently screamed every threat imaginable and Wooyoung had to constrain himself from not bursting into a fit laughter. 

But it didn’t last for long as San boldly retorted, “Including your mouth?”  —  Wooyoung exploded on the spot.

Seonghwa gaped at him and wielded a notepad from the table, only to freeze when Hongjoong suddenly appeared. 

“Seonghwa, did you finish sorting? I have some more postage up front for you.” He announced, stopping at the threshold to survey the scene. His brows furrowed. “Is everything all right in here?”

“Yes! Sorry!” Wooyoung squawked, allowing San to calm him as Seonghwa quickly dropped the notepad. 

“Alright…” Hongjoong drawled, gaze dragging over his coworkers. “Please remember to stay on task.”

“Yes Hongjoong!” They answered in unison and the postmaster padded away to return to the front desk. Seonghwa shook his head and gave the spirits a playful glance. “This isn’t over.”

San scoffed and before Seonghwa receded into the lobby, something he wanted to ask earlier came to mind. “Hey, have you seen any sign of the others yet?”

Seonghwa paused and shook his head. He had been watching the windows closely in between Hongjoong’s orders and beyond the steady line of customers, but there had been no sign of their members. 

“What about back here? Anything?”

San and Wooyoung shook their heads too, and Seonghwa tried not to let the uneasiness in his stomach grow. 

The spirits noticed his concern setting in and Wooyoung quickly spoke up. “Let’s not worry about it too much now. After all, they’re infiltrating a yakuza headquarters and performing a rescue. So let’s give them until tonight and if they’re not back by then, we'll tell Hongjoong and take matters from there,” he proposed, glancing around at the other two. “Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect.” Seonghwa breathed heavily, grasping onto one of his sword harness’s straps. “I’ll continue to watch the front and you two, the back.”

With a collective nod, Seonghwa swept out of the sorting room to avoid a yelling from Hongjoong. The postmaster seemed to have a lot on his plate already, so Seonghwa only hoped their current situation wouldn’t have to add to it. 

___

Yeosang couldn’t get to the lower levels fast enough.

He was forced to hurriedly tuck the vandalised letter into his jacket and took the steps in twos. The sound of spirits flooding into the halls filled his ears and he was certain the boss herself was on his heels.

The middle level was absent of any friendly face, and it wasn’t until Yeosang reached the deepest level that he collided headfirst with anyone familiar.

It was Mingi and Yunho that crashed into him as they rounded a corner, and as they picked themselves up not a word was spoken between the trio. They turned back the way they came and ran, the entire hallway of enemies close behind them.

“Jongho?” Mingi panted, getting ready to release his dragons again if need be.

“No idea,” Yeosang replied, nearly skidding into the wall as he made the turn for the staircase. “I left him here on the middle level, but I can’t find him.”

“What’s he doing then?” Mingi sighed, mostly to himself, before seeing a spirit up ahead and pulling Yeosang and Yunho back into the wall crevice before he was spotted.

Before the kitsune could complain, he fell silent and his fox ears perked up. He was picking up on something the spirits were saying to each other, something the rest of them couldn’t hear. 

“They aren’t hunting us down,” he gasped suddenly, the realisation practically slapping him across the face. “They’re headed to the square. Jongho’s in a duel with some gangster spirit.”

“He… what?” Yunho muttered, forehead creasing with concern even as he gripped Mingi for support.

“Must have gotten sidetracked,” Mingi sighed, looking up the stairwell to see if the coast was clear before offering an idea. “We could try to follow them through the portal, maybe pick a few of them off. Jongho can’t handle all these spirits by himself.”

Yeosang nodded and extended his claws. “Help Yunho get through. I’ll clear a path.”

With that, he tore ahead and flew up the stairs, taking the gangsters completely by surprise and flooring them before they realised they were being attacked.

Mingi and Yunho were somewhere behind him, eyes on the shining portal up ahead and while Yeosang dug his claws into a screaming enemy, he checked over his shoulder to make sure they got through.

A zap of lightning came flying at him as soon as he was distracted, but the kitsune rolled out of the way and returned a sharp blow to the guilty spirit’s neck, taking him out of the fight. The next gangster to challenge him got a blow to the knee and crashed to the ground, and after that the rest of the crowd fled.

No one in their right mind would challenge an angry kitsune.

Checking that the stolen letter was secure in his jacket, Yeosang ran through the portal and into the courtyard.

With luck, Jongho was winning the fight.

___

For a busy afternoon, including unexpected staff changes and the threat of potential dark magic hanging over his head, Hongjoong’s day was going pretty well.

At least he’d gotten through all the tasks that came with the customer rush and it was something methodical and familiar that kept his mind off the growing realisation that he couldn’t keep his secret much longer.

It was stuffy enough after lunch to open the windows and a bit of bracing fresh air was always good for Hongjoong’s nerves with the steaming cup of tea in his hands and the drone of the radio lulling him into relaxation for a precious moment.

A gorgeous black and blue swallowtail butterfly found its way into the office through the window and Hongjoong watched it, mesmerised, as it flitted around from bookcase to cabinet to desk.

It stood there in front of him expectantly, wings occasionally flapping before they came together delicately, and Hongjoong wondered if it was a messenger for the dead.

He’d never received one before, and it wasn’t the type of mail he could deliver so he had no indication outside of the regular street gossip whether messenger butterflies were even real or not, but something about the way it approached him made him want to believe the folklore.

Tentatively, he reached out his hand to see what would happen and, to his great delight, the butterfly perched on his finger and clung there for a moment.

“I don’t know if you can help me communicate with someone in the Beyond,” he whispered after checking that no one was there. “But... if my father is there somewhere and you can bring a message to him, will you just let him know I’ve been waiting patiently and I’d like some answers now?”

The butterfly flapped its wings once and then on the second time lifted into the air and headed back towards the window.

Hongjoong didn’t care whether butterflies were really afterlife messengers. He always asked them his questions anyway knowing at least they wouldn’t tell anyone else.

Just as he was about to sit back and finish his drink, he noticed the butterfly’s halting progress toward the door and watched, dismayed, as it suddenly dropped dead just shy of the window.

“No!” He gasped quietly, rushing forward to see if he could save it and then cradling the tiny thing in his hands helplessly. It had seemed completely healthy when he had touched it.

With nothing else to do but return the creature to the earth in the form of the dirt underneath the window, Hongjoong returned to his seat and pulled out some filing to work on, turning up the volume on the radio.

Now he was in a bad mood.

“And the weather forecast is looking pleasant today,” the voice on the radio was saying. “There’s no rain coming over the weekend so spend the time outside if you can…”

“Would you like the rest of my seaweed crisps?” Seonghwa asked as he entered the room, waving the little package for emphasis.

Hongjoong looked up and took the food, absentmindedly munching on it while the two of them both went back to work. “Are San and Wooyoung back on task?”

Seonghwa nodded and settled into Yeosang’s chair, scooping up the stack of forms that had accumulated. “All they have left from the week are those customer service requests, assuming the afternoon is light.”

The office team always did their best to make things run smoothly despite the extreme variety of delivery requests they received, and it wasn’t uncommon to have special accommodation paperwork pile up towards the end of a busy day, in fact, it was a relief during times as chaotic as these. The world continued on as normal.

“Would you mind closing the windows?” Hongjoong asked as he tore his eyes away from the spot of the floor where the butterfly had fallen and finished his food.

Seonghwa obliged, and just as he reached up to shut the window, the voice of the radio announcer changed into a louder tone of panic, making him freeze in place.

“Just in; a large battle appears to have broken out in Central Square, and information is still coming in but the conflict appears to be between several postmen and a large number of gang members. Chen, could you confirm for me what’s happening out there?”

Seonghwa whipped around, heart beating out of his chest as the cold realisation that they’d been caught broke over him with the force of a tidal wave.

Hongjoong was staring back at him in shock and pulled the little radio closer to hear what was being said. The other announcer took over the microphone and continued to narrate, apparently with a view of what was taking place in the middle of the city.

“Yes, I’ve just heard from a source of ours down at the police station that the gang contributing to the violence here is the elusive kaminari-gumi, and I can tell you that we may not know much about them but a member of the Illusion Post is rumoured to be an ex-tachi kai assassin, the gang’s main rivals, so I can imagine there is a lot of animosity here—” 

“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa pleaded so quietly the postmaster couldn’t have possibly heard him. “I can explain…”

But Hongjoong simply clutched the radio tighter as the tears welled up in his eyes and listened to the karuras debate.

“The scene here at Central Square has still not de-escalated and we must advise that everyone stay away. It’s a shame, but if the Illusion Post loses patrons after this incident, I won’t be surprised. This is the second violent attack involving them this year, and we can only speculate as to why they continue to be targets but, Chen, I think your theory may have some credibility…”

“Why did you lie to me?” Hongjoong finally snapped, dropping the radio onto the table and watching with cold eyes as Wooyoung and San appeared in the hallway. They’d been listening from the other room and knew the ruse was up.

“We didn’t want you to worry,” Wooyoung told him firmly, not leaving any room for regret. They could apologise later, now was the time for action.

“What could possibly have happened that you thought you couldn’t trust me with?” Hongjoong cried, looking between the pair and back at Seonghwa again until someone answered.

“Yunho was kidnapped on his route yesterday,” Seonghwa explained quietly, stepping closer with the same caution he’d show a cornered beast most likely. “You were still recovering from the poison, more stress might’ve worsened your health.”

“Worsened my— Oh, Seonghwa,  _ please _ ,” the human scoffed. “I could’ve helped!”

“We found his things,” San went on. “And we figured that the kaminari-gumi took him so we thought we could rescue him, get in and out without any attention, and everything would be fine!”

“Yeah, well, I think we all know how that went,” Hongjoong shot back, clearing off his desk and shouldering his bag. “A literal duel in the Central Square, and it’s on  _ my _ head if anyone else gets hurt!”

San frowned and wrung his hands together. They hadn’t really thought about that. “Where are you going?” He asked when Hongjoong started putting on his jacket and turning to toss him his.

“To settle this once and for all,” he said simply, passing Seonghwa and Wooyoung their coats as well and giving them a pointed glance when they remained in their spots, confused. “Well, are you coming or not?”

“Hongjoong, wait!” Seonghwa called, hurrying after him. “You can’t go to the square, it’s in chaos. You could be hurt or—”

“Save it,” Hongjoong cut him off and dodged an attempt to reign him back in. “I don’t care, they kidnapped Yunho, they’re not getting away with it.”

There wasn’t much he could do against spirit magic and brute force but he was angry now and there was no stopping him, so the three tailed along as protection, locking the office behind them.

The Illusion Post would have to close early today.

\---

“Jongho! Jongho!”

Amidst the whistling wind of blades cutting through the air, a voice he recognised called out.

Yeosang was waving at him from the other side of the square, with Mingi and a recovered Yunho in tow. 

Jongho felt the pressure leave his shoulders and sighed, relieved to see that his sidetrack hadn’t ruined the mission. Immediately he had to duck a lightning bolt from an oncoming spirit and didn’t get the chance to respond to Yeosang until the enemy was knocked onto the ground and stayed there.

“How do you propose we get out of here?” Yeosang asked him, panting while he ran to him and pressed up against his back as support.

“There are too many,” Jongho groaned back as he lifted his spear once again and parried the sword of an attacking gangster. “If we retreat now, we’ll only lead them back home.”

“Someone has to get that portal shut,” Yeosang agreed. “Otherwise the entire clan will be on us.”

Flipping over his current opponent and digging his claws into two others, he made his way to where Mingi was furiously defending Yunho in a flurry of dragon fire and helped pull the mage to his feet.

“Yunho, I know you’re indisposed but I need help with something,” the kitsune asked with a gentle apology before taking Yunho’s weight and directing him to the portal. “You’re a strong mage, you can help with this, right?”

Yunho bit his lip in uncertainty but pulled himself up painstakingly and locked onto the interdimensional energy. 

Portals were tricky business, otherwise Yunho would take no issue and push through the pain. They were like little wormholes that transported a person into or out of a pocket dimension, in this case the kaminari-gumi headquarters, and since creating them required immense strength, he could only assume closing one that he didn’t make would be just as difficult.

Still, there was no use training confidence into Mingi only to abandon hope at the sight of a challenge.

“Go on,” Yeosang encouraged, supporting him from the back and waiting for Yunho to focus.

He closed his eyes and let the world slip away. The portal was already shrinking due to the death of its maker and as Yunho concentrated on exerting his will over it, the magic began to respond, whittling out like a tapering flame until with a light pop finally disappearing from view.

Exhausted, Yunho stumbled back into Yeosang’s arms and felt his consciousness fade.

“No, stay with me!” His voice pleaded and it wasn’t more enticing than the pull of rest on his bruised body so he let it drift away until suddenly it was joined by another.

“Hongjoong?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Hongjoong smiled down at him sadly before pulling him onto his back with some effort, making for the exit.

“I didn’t think you’d come…” Yunho admitted in a tired mumble, trying not to cry out at the jostling as Hongjoong ran him out towards the main street. He should be happy to see him, but somehow with every step it felt like more of his energy was stripped away.

Hongjoong didn’t respond but turned to yell back at Seonghwa, San, and Wooyoung who had also appeared in the middle of the action. “Cover me!”

With a curt nod, Seonghwa smoothly drew his swords and let them lead the way into battle, working seamlessly with Wooyoung and San around him to cut down foes as they presented themselves.

Jongho, Mingi, and Yeosang had spotted the trio and joined up, forming ranks together and watching each other’s backs as they slowly retreated after Hongjoong and Yunho. Seonghwa could see a deep cut on Yeosang’s face and Mingi was nursing an injured arm where his dragon tattoo was, but they persevered, Wooyoung and San even doing so weaponless.

“Help!” Hongjoong’s scream echoed across the courtyard and Seonghwa turned around quickly, afraid some lucky spirit had done its worst. 

Hongjoong was mere feet away from the road, an unconscious Yunho now laid out on the ground while the human administered CPR. “Someone help, he stopped breathing!”

Seonghwa ignored the protest of his swords and sheathed them, running over and nudging Hongjoong out of the way. 

“I-I don’t know why,” Hongjoong was choking out, stumbling over his words and hovering around the two, unsure what to do with himself. “One minute he was fine and then he just dropped, but I can’t find any more wounds on him—”

“I need some space,” Seonghwa interrupted, motioning for Hongjoong to step back so he could deal with the problem himself.

Just as he returned his attention to the fallen mage, Yunho’s eyes popped open and his breathing returned, slightly laboured but very much alive.

Seonghwa didn’t understand it.

Not taking any more chances, he scooped the taller boy up himself and turned onto the road, hoping the others would follow.

He was calmed by their voices behind him and clung on to Yunho until they reached the office, the door already surrounded by a horde of curious karuras. “Excuse me,” he growled through his teeth when they pressed close to see what he was doing, busy trying to fish the keys out of his pocket all while holding Yunho.

Not a moment too soon, Yeosang was there for him to pass the mage off to and together they pushed back the gossipy hybrids and entered the office.

When all eight of them were inside and the blinds were all closed, there was a collective exhale. 

“So who wants to explain to me what’s been going on all morning?” Hongjoong huffed, locking the door behind him.

Mingi gave Wooyoung and San a dubious look, knowing the two of them were most likely to have spoiled the secret operation. 

“It wasn’t us!” Wooyoung whined. “The news karuras spoiled everything on the radio. And, Hongjoong, I don’t think there’s anything else we need to tell you. You heard it all from Seonghwa, it was a rescue mission that got a little bit sidetracked.”

“Except that we’re sorry,” Yeosang added softly. “It was my idea to keep this from you. I misjudged the situation, it won’t happen again.”

Hongjoong relaxed and lowered his eyes at this statement before pulling his kitsune companion into a hug. “I’m just glad everyone’s alright…” here he pulled away to place a gentle touch to the wound on his cheek. “...mostly.”

“How is he?” Jongho questioned awkwardly, motioning to Yunho where he had been placed in Hongjoong’s desk chair.

Seonghwa looked up as he finished checking the mage’s vitals and shrugged helplessly, directing his gaze at Hongjoong.

“I honestly don’t know what happened to him,” Hongjoong’s voice quieted defensively. “It was so sudden, and no one even touched him.”

“The kaminari-gumi tortured him with electrocution,” Mingi supplied with a dark look in his eye. He seemed ready to charge back in and lay waste to their estate in revenge, judging by the agitated state of his dragons. 

“You rescued me,” a weak voice sounded from the chair, and all seven of them smiled to see Yunho awake and alert. “Your dragons— you regained control of them. Good work.”

At the praise, Mingi calmed and took his friend’s hand, allowing his dragons to fade back into the tattoos, still ready should he need them but dormant for now.

“The kaminari-gumi are hunting the Prophesied One,” Yunho informed the group, his voice gaining strength. A hushed murmur broke out around him, all except for Yeosang who remained silent and lost in thought. “For some reason, they thought it was me,” Yunho chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. “I guess they felt threatened by me last time we fought. The boss set them straight on that score, but kept me around to lure you all in.”

Seeing the way his face fell with that guilty air surrounding him, Seonghwa rubbed Yunho’s shoulder encouragingly. “It’s not your fault. And it’s all over now. There’s no way the police will refuse to help after this. All anyone is talking about is that attack and there are plenty of bodies in the square for them to identify.”

While the rest of the group went about cleaning up for the day, cooking dinner, and calling the police investigator to inform her their kidnapped member had been found, Yeosang pulled out the defaced letter from the boss’ desk and opened it, scanning it over quickly and paling at what he read.

“Hongjoong,” he beckoned the postmaster who had just hung up the phone. “It’s for you.”

Confused, the human took the letter. 

_ My dearest Hongjoong, _

_ You may not remember, but the first time I sent you to the market by yourself to run errands, you got very scared. I never liked letting you out of my sight, but I had so many meetings that day and our cabinets were nearly bare and there was just nothing else to be done. You were always very self-aware, so when the butcher spirit gave you one too many dark looks, you returned to the pastry shop where you felt safe. Who knows what could’ve happened if you hadn’t. _

_ Today, it’s incredibly selfish of me but I would much rather you put your well-being first than take a deadly risk. The day may come when you have no choice, but know that it’s alright to be afraid sometimes and there will always be a sanctuary to retreat to. _

_ Pick yourself up when you’re ready. _

_ Never stop smiling. _

“Another of Dad’s,” he breathed in bittersweet reverence. “Why did the kaminari-gumi have it?”

“Another letter?” San perked up, joining their conversation and dragging Jongho with him. “This is perfect! Only one more and the package can be opened!”

When Yeosang and Hongjoong both blinked at him in utter confusion, Jongho swooped in and explained their library findings from the previous night. “We didn’t get a chance to tell you, but we have reason to believe that box from your father is a sealed object only openable with a specific set of ‘keys,’ keys which we believe to be the letters you keep receiving. And if this is the fourth, you only need one more maximum to find out what’s in there.”

Hongjoong somehow worked in a ‘thank you’ in his excitement to retrieve the package and arrange the letters atop it, one on each quadrant as designated by the unbreakable twine. Still, nothing happened when he tried to cut it, and so he deflated and crossed his arms.

“One more letter then.”

“Any ideas where to look for it?” Wooyoung tried helpfully, pushing a plate of food into the postmaster’s hands.

“We’ve already tried all his old haunts,” Hongjoong sighed before stabbing some meat with his fork. “At least the ones I knew about. Except…”

“Except what?” San whispered, leaning forward in anticipation. 

“You know how I suggested we take a vacation?” He directed his query at Yeosang, who nodded. “Well, there’s a campground where Father and I used to go in the woods from time to time. Now would be an ideal opportunity to get away, and there’s a chance the letter could be there.” 

“A vacation?” Mingi perked up from where he sat cutting Yunho’s steak for him. “That’s an excellent idea! Count me in.”

The rest of the team voiced similar approval and so the matter was decided. For the rest of the evening they packed only enough clothes for a week and a half with the hopes that the letter would be found and they would be sufficiently rested in that time. 

The morning brought more nosy newscasters and curious patrons asking for a comment, but the notice of leave was firmly stapled to the door with the hours for reopening clearly stated where everyone could see, and nothing more was said to the public. Customers would have to find another way to deliver their letters until the team returned.

Unlike last time they were there, the train station was decently full of other travellers. They milled about with none of the tension the post workers had, already in a leisurely mindset while the Illusion Post team could only anticipate the treasure hunt ahead.

“How many?” The gruff voice of the hairy ticket seller came through the booth window.

“Um, eight please,” Hongjoong requested politely, sliding the money under the glass and pointing to their destination on the map. “To the campground. Seventeenth station.”

The cashier’s paw slipped the tickets back to him and deposited the money in his register, grumpy as always, while Hongjoong rejoined his friends where they waited on the benches, looking down the forlorn tracks and listening to the faint jazzy music played over the brassy speakers.

Just when they thought they were rid of them, an announcer karura gave a brief arts festival report before moving on to the daily news.

“Of course, it appears that the wildfire of theorising that went through the grapevine yesterday evening in the aftermath of the battle downtown may have struck a chord with the team at the Illusion Post because they have indeed shut down the office for the next week or so and gone on a reported trip away until things cool down. Not sure I can blame them but, boy, is their income going to drop. What’s your take, Chen?”

Hongjoong pulled his hat down just in case anyone was looking his way and shrunk into the seat as the train appeared in screeching metal and smoke. He didn’t care to know what anyone thought. He was retreating to a sanctuary, just like he’d been told to.

“Well, until the police get in touch with us we can’t know for sure but for such a quaint little family business, these happenings are beginning to make folks afraid that something— or  _ someone _ — very, very dangerous is hidden away at the Illusion Post. Stick around to hear more of the latest headlines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thank YOU for sticking around through our hiatus! No, we haven’t abandoned the Illusion Post, we’ve just been really busy and progress on this one was slow. Such is life. Hope you enjoyed and leave a comment if you have one! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to The Illusion Post! This work is a collaboration of myself, tismoomi, and NoriMori based on [ The Illusion Post art. ](https://twitter.com/Noriimorii/status/1203702494817181696?s=20) It is the episodic story of the eight boys running the office and their adventures receiving and making deliveries. Please enjoy and leave some kudos and comments! <3


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